


Icarus

by Aurastorm



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2019-06-24 07:51:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 24,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15626154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aurastorm/pseuds/Aurastorm
Summary: Sometimes, it is not what we achieve that challenges us to grow but what we fail to complete. Fareeha , daughter of one of the best agents of Overwatch, is a prime example of what failure can do.





	1. The Road to Rome

**_1_ **

 

_Raptora Unit Mark V. Green across the board. I’m Ready for trial._

 

She had gotten her promotion quickly, having been moved from the Egyptian military with an engineering degree. Fareeha was the most obvious candidate to join the Helix Security Team the guarded the Temple of Anubis. It wasn’t an easy transition, as welcomed as it was.

 

The armor fit well over the uniform doned by the security team. No weapons yet, simply a flight trial. She was nervous, of course. What she had flied were aircrafts, not a literal jet engine strapped to her back and chest.

 

The weight felt overwhelming at times, the mechanisms of the armor heavy on her shoulders, and yet that's what made it all feel much more real. There was a real danger to this. While the Raptora was made to withstand _some_ damage, that provided little comfort. Unlike an aircraft with an eject button, the only thing that’d absorb any of the net force applied from the floor upward to her once the armor could absorb no more was her bones; and it wasn’t like this make of the armor protected much.

 

And yet here she was standing in the trial grounds, adjusting straps and ensuring she had everything on tight and snug, like a safety blanket. **Flight Clearance: Lieutenant Amari, clear for trial** . _Roger_.  With that she exhaled. The armor was hooked up to her nervous system, responding to her movements and will; with time it’d feel like an extension to her own body. Or so it was marketed to her.  

 

Fareeha would spend the next ten minutes just figuring out how to even ignite the damned motors, which was absolutely embarrassing. This prodigy of battle, an engineer, and an Egyptian pilot, was unable to even _turn on the damned thing._ She felt painfully inadequate, like the superiors were shaking their head at her constant failure to start up the equipment.

 

She exhales, raising the plaid scarf around her neck to wipe at the sweat over the bridge of her nose, the Egyptian sun blistering and cooking what parts of her were encased in the armor. Her mind started to flip through a mental manual of the guide she had been given to review when offered the position. _Page 387, Connection Troubleshoot: Incase of an error on synchronization with armor, attempt to move the wings of the Raptora. If no movement whatsoever occurs, contact the assigned engineer._ Fareeha focused and looked back, noticing the twitch of the heavy wings. _Page 216 Connection Boot up: The connection establish should feel like an extension of the wearer’s body, based on prosthetics of the highest technology._  She felt it, so that was crossed off the list. What was she missing?

 

_Page 1: Raptora Mark V Pilot , Helix Division congratulates you on your recent assignment to the Anubis Security Team. Your Raptora Armor is equipped with state of the art equipment solely available to Helix Security employees. This armor is and will be an extension of your body, working perfectly in synchronization with your movement and will. It is a long training process that will reward you with the possibility of aerial superiority….._

 

Her mind trailed off. She remembered growing up seeing Angela flying. The young doctor in her Valkyrie unit suit aiding all. Gliding with ease from one to the next. It was mesmerizing to watch, beautiful and graceful.

 

She recalled her mother showing Jesse and Amèlie how to hit the hardest of shots, the two blessed with hawkeyes and aim that only rivaled her mother.  She remembered Reinhardt, as tall as a bear and with three times the strength, capable of ripping a table in half and yet having the softest of hands when holding the small Amari. For pete’s sake, Gabriel and Jack were literal super soldiers!

 

And here she was. Daughter of Overwatch’s Captain Amari, icon of hope and justice with nothing but practice under her belt. Nothing remarkable to her other than a sterling career that had never gotten her to Overwatch.

 

Fareeha was unworthy of Overwatch. She recalled the sheepish smile Reinhardt gave her, the pat on the shoulder Jack spared, and the ever so _slightly_ disappointed and soft look Angela had offered. She brought nothing new to the table when she applied and that prevented anyone from even vouching for her against Ana’s lioness stance on the matter.

 

Fareeha was going to prove them all wrong.

 

_Page 875 Rocket Jump. Dangerous. Do not perform under any circumstance other than life or death. Raptora Armor Mark V comes with an extra emergency exhaust capable of propelling the user in a quick burst at tops speeds. Due to the danger of cranial injury, this movement was deemed dangerous to inexperienced flyers._

 

She was an Amari. She was a warrior in blood. She had climbed the ranks of the military with ease. _Overwatch was missing out._ It was their loss. _Overwatch was shut down for a reason_ …. As Angela’s words echoed in the back of her head the equipment flared, jetting the entirety of the Egyptian soldier up in the air. The force she felt was a warning of the sheer power this armor had, of what it could do. _Of what she could do_.

 

Reaching the peak she almost drops down, but flares the wings, the mechanisms splitting to allow her to hang midair as the hot air from the exhausts exits the motors whirring close to her chest, reverberating her whole body as her eyes scanned the sand she had kicked up under her. It wasn’t the motor, it was her shaking in excitement as she tilted her head back and gave a long scream.

 

_Raptora systems operational. Green across the board, I am ready for action._

 

**_2_ **

 

_“Amari?”_

A grumble.

 _“Amari? Something is ringing-“_ This time she is nudged a little. The Egyptian grumbles once more looking at the person in her bed. She was unsure who the woman was; a secretary or something. They met at the bar down the street, and she could see the abashed blonde covering herself with the sheets as the soldier sat up heavily. The dog tags around her neck clank together, the cold steel pressing to her burning skin.

 

Fareeha takes a second to recall where she is, the alcohol that clouded her first minutes awake dispersing. She scratches at the tattoo under her eye, before moving the blankets putting her feet on the warm wood of her apartment. Naked. Right. A pair of sweats are pulled up from the piled near the bed as she staggers in the dark to the desk of her room, patting for her codec. Picking that up she sees that was not what had disrupted her afterglow and her sleep.

 

 _“I think its coming from the bookshelf?”_ The blonde woman piques from her spot sat in Pharah’s bed. Heading her words she approaches her bookshelf shuffling a few things to pull up a small box, holding it to her ear. Inside there is a small beep, almost as if the noise mimicked a heartbeat. _“What is it?”_  Her bed partner’s voice was drilling her head, annoying her more than anything as she stared at the box, unsure of wanting to open it. Her hand reaches back to the base of her neck, scratching at one of the connection nodes that dotted her spine.

 

Deciding against her better judgement she opens it, pulling out a coin like emblem, dusty. Her thumb runs over the grooves of the Overwatch logo, drawing a clean streak as her thumb clears the dust clung to it. Turning it up right her mother’s name glows up at her. She presses it allowing the communicator to buzz to life and cease its heartbeat. The hologram that opens up shows the coordinates of Gibraltar and a petition to arrive at a given date. “.... A recall?” She mused out loud, voice hoarse.

 

“ _Recall?”_

“Yes, this is my mother’s old Overwatch badge.”

_“Overwatch activity is ill—“_

“Illegal under the Petra’s act. Yes, I am aware.” Fareeha’s brown eyes are scanning the hologram as she brings it to her desk, scrolling through the meager data it provided. She could hear the woman behind her shift, sitting up at the edge of the bed and stretching. “Are you going? Allow me to pay your taxi.”

_“Such a gentleman.”_

Of course she was leaving. Fareeha would allow her to call for a ride and see her out, the kiss pressed to her lips burning out within a second of the blonde woman stepping into the cab.

 

Alone once more, the Egyptian soldier returned to her apartment. She needed a shower, but as she locked her door, her eyes couldn’t help but to drift to the badge, now silenced on her desk by its box. _Illegal under the Petra’s Act._

 

The news played in the television that adorned the living room. The bathroom door was open as the cold water graced her muscles. The sun had already begun to rise as had the news of the night. _Crime this, Theft that. Sexual assaults the other, Omnic crisis everywhere. Civil rights or not._ They buzzed in her ear, as well as the recall that had woken her up. The only thing that stopped her roaming mind was the buzz of her codec.

 

Still dripping and pleasantly naked, a bad habit from having been alone for years in her own apartment, she picks up, “Captain Amari, who is this?”

_“Hey Pharah, heard you left last night early in good company! The celebration was good, but I guessed you’d wanna spend some time relaxing properly uh?”_

“Yes, Sven, something like that. What’s on your mind?” She looks to the box, a little locker for the badge, a small plane, her mother’s letter and a few pictures from her time growing up in Overwatch.

_“We are being deployed soon, wondering if you have plans to enroll for this one so soon after the last mission.”_

 

Her eyes trail to the badge. She turns it up, running a thumb over the engraved named. She presses it, allowing the display to light up once more, “I was actually going to put in my request for a vacation.”

  



	2. Glass Houses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fareeha finds more than the ghosts of her Mother’s life in the old headquarters

**_1_ **

Landing after a long flight, Fareeha was still a sleepy mess. She tried to straighten out her hair, fix what had been undone and also hurriedly pull a jacket on, since her Helix Uniform didn’t do much to warm her torso. Once the zipper is up and the plaid scarf fixed, she would pick up the duffle bag and walk onto the old Hangar.

 

She was amazed to see so many people already there, many of whom she didn’t know but knee her.  _ Captain Amari’s little munchkin, Ana’s baby, Look how Tall the Captain’s kid is! Working for Helix? Your mother would be proud.  _ Fareeha would spend time with each and everyone, pretending to know who they were, nodding and waving a hand. The soldier didn’t have it in her to tell them their idol had played dead for years and wanted nothing to do with Overwatch. They could keep living the delusion she almost wish she could. Nevertheless, between chatter and idle comments about how big she was now, she recollected that  _ Winston _ was incharge of this whole fiasco. She remembered the huge ape from her young years, he had always been nothing but a sweetheart; and here she was, livid at his crass course of action. 

 

Pharah would make straight line for the Commander’s office, an old playing ground for her. Without knocking or announcing her entrance she’d basically shouldered the door open, catching Winston with a finger in one of his peanut butter jars,”  _ What were you thinking?!” _

At first he seems confused as to who had the gall to burst into his office but slowly, his face softens and slackens into a sort of silent  _ oh  _ before setting the jar down and adjusting his glasses,”Fareeha, Is that you? Gosh you have—“

“Grown, yes, that happens in eight year. What were you thinking?! A recall? You are going to get sent back to the moon!” She dropped the bag at the door, approaching the ape’s desk with her hands on her hips,”What you did is  _ illegal  _ and who knows how long till someone with a badge reports it! You are going to get everyone who has agreed  _ arrested _ , Winston!”

 

He had tilted back into his custom chair, scratching his head in some form of embarrassment as the young Amari scolded him. They were both aware of how much like her mother she sounded,”Talon is coming back. Tracer and I have already stopped two attempts to steal the doomfist. Fareeha, the world needs us. We must stand up and—“

“The world decided they didn’t need Overwatch! And you know this. You know why it closed, why it disbanded!” She was tapping the desk with her pointing finger before pointing it out the door,” Now this people think there is hope that does not exist because they believe Overwatch will return in its full glory!”

 

“ _ Fareeha. _ ” He gave one of his snorts that sounded very monkey in nature, catching the burning Egyptian and making her cross her arms to listen,” We all know the risks of saying yes. We know, we accept. We cannot stand by and watch, so we are taking action. You are not obligated to say yes, you may leave. But know that if you decide to stay we would be thanking you greatly. I know how much wanted to join Overwatch—“

“ _ Not enough to convince my mother.”   _ The remark was a sharp stab of bitterness from a knife Fareeha always carried in her back. 

 

Winston looked away and cleared his throat before speaking again,“You flew all the way out here, your curiosity must have gotten the best of you.” He was right, but she only gave a heavy exhale, “If you wish to stay, if for a few weeks to see what we are doing, I would love to house you till you wish to go. I do mean it, it is great to see you after so many years, your mother w-“

“ _ Would be proud _ , yes. You all truly did not know my mother,” She goes back to pick her bag up,” I took my vacations at Helix, I heard Gibraltar is great in this season for vacationing.”

Though he had melted into a grimace at the bitterness Fareeha carried he grinned widely at her last comment,”Yes, it is. Feel free to pick a room in the barracks, I will tell Athena to unlock it and assign it to you, Captain Amari.”

 

It felt odd to hear it. It had always been said by her men, sure, but  _ Captain Amari _ had such a strange ring from someone who had used it to address her mother with such title,” Thank you Winston. I am glad to see you too, even if it was under such a circumstance.”

“Go rest, you are probably jet lagged.”

 

She was more exhausted than she had expected, and made it a point to avoid any more chatter. Even with modern aircraft capabilities, the flight from Egypt to Gibraltar was a difficult one, although only a handful of hours long. She was more than happy to pick the first room available, somewhere on the second section of the barracks. As hungry as she was she’d shower and promptly pass out on the soft bed, glad it had been cleaned recently.

 

**_2_ **

 

Time wasn’t much of a constraint to her when she was lagged a few hours. When she awoke it must have been four in the morning or so. A bit of sleep is all she needed, so Fareeha would get up, dress once more and go find breakfast. Usual pants, a black compression shirt tucked in and her trusty uniform boots were all she really needed to head out. Why pretty up when all of the base was asleep? 

 

The floor shared a kitchen, stocked by the facility. She kind of wondered where Winston was getting the money. Still, she beelines for the coffee maker and to the fridge to investigate what was available, ignoring someone who seemed to be asleep on the nook close to the window were the sun was beginning to peek through. Not finding too much, Fareeha figures how they are financing this and pours out some cereal, standing with the bowl in her hand as she watches the coffee drip into the kettle.  _ So much had happened, so little had changed. _

 

The Egyptian had flied out here on impulse, out of curiosity. She couldn’t believe what had happened, she had to know why, she had so many questions and at the end of rainbow all she had found was a lonely Winston likely justifying his actions with the current events unfolding around the world. Her eyes drift over her shoulders at the blonde passed out on the table, giving the smallest of snores. What had this poor bastard expected coming out here? Promises of bettering the world? Action and glory? Honor?

 

Fareeha spoons a bit of cereal into her mouth before approaching the table and noticing handfuls of papers with medical jargon on them. Good to know they had a medic on site at least, but that sated her curiosity and she moved away back to stare at the coffee, the smell of it slowly filling the kitchen. It was probably the smell that woke up the woman. 

 

She could hear her shuffle, papers be displaced a bit. It was likely 5:30 am by then, a small groan escaping the woman as she stretched. Fareeha wasn’t facing her, figuring the medic would be a bit embarrassed she fell asleep on the kitchen table. A loud yawn preludes her words, “Do you think I could get some of that coffee?”

“Help yourself,” With a one shouldered shrug, Fareeha dismisses it, idly listening to the first few steps, the opening of the cupboard and then the medic approaching her. 

 

Fareeha would try to be a nice person, picking the pot up and offering to pour out a cup for the woman, but turning around and facing a groggy and tired Angela Ziegler had frozen mid-movement. The doctor sported the usual tired and darked eye look, only enhanced by what had probably been an hour of sleep on the table, the blonde locks were a bit askew but still brushed back into the ponytail Angela had always preferred. Even after eight years, she didn’t look to have aged a day. “Mh, thank you,” she mumbled, since the Helix officer had poured out the coffee without realizing.

Angela turns to walk back to the table, giving another yawn before sipping the coffee, only to stop and perk up. Fareeha could see her shoulders tense and scrunch up a bit before she turned around and basically gasped out,” _ Fareeha? _ !” 

“Angela,” Fareeha offered a sheepish  smile lifting the pot in a small toast. The blonde looks around for the closest surface as she approaches her, stopping once she succeeds as she squints at Fareeha with tired eyes.

 

“What is that?”  She points at the ink on her cheek, causing the Egyptian to raise her fingers to the tattoo,”When did you get so tall— Is that muscle? And you cut your hair! Wait why are you here—“ 

The daughter of Ana just chuckles a little,”Slow down Doctor, I can’t answer all of them if you don’t stop!” Angela hides her mouth behind a hand before lowering and mouthing a soft  _ sorry _ . 

 

“This is the eye of Horus, it's like the tattoo my mother had, a symbol of protection and of protecting. I hit a growth spurt around college, I enrolled in the Egyptian military in a joint program for my Canadian engineering degree and yes, I did cut my hair, ever since I have been piloting the Raptora suits from Helix Security, and I came to see why Winston had even made a recall, but no, I did not answer it,” She had counted off before raising her eyes to Angela’s, “Satisfied?” 

The blonde doctor nods, steepling her fingers with a look full of soft wonder,“I am glad to see you here.”

 

**_3_ **

The two would take their cups of coffee and sit in the living room quarters to catch up. Fareeha learned that Angela had been of the first to support the disbanding of Overwatch after tension between Jack and Gabriel rose, particularly with Ana no longer being around to play arbiter.  She told the soldier about Torbjörn returning to Sweden to work as an engineer for a company and how Reinhardt had been travelling Germany with Torbjörn’s daughter, Brigitte. She herself had spent most of her time back home, in Switzerland, doing humanitarian work although she had long hanged the Valkyrie suit and the “Mercy” persona. Now she was simply an outstanding doctor who basically ran the private hospital where she worked, and had settled in a comfortable life all things considered, “It was odd, to see my old Badge light up. I doubted it even worked anymore. Out of the last members of Overwatch it was you who we knew the least about, though we heard about your ventures in the Temple of Anubis. We were worried sick until the statement was released.”

“And yet you did not recognize me, despite keeping tabs on me?”

“You are a little  _ bigger _ in person,” Angela giggles, humming out as she continues, “Besides I never thought you would come to Overwatch. Sure, I was bound to come and make sure that Winston wouldn’t hurt himself over an ideal… Again. He didn’t take the disbanding too well—“

“And you don’t expect this to last long?” Fareeha reclines on her armchair, crossing an ankle over her knee as she observed the hesitation that marked Angela’s jaw before she nodded and tried to hide behind her mug, “At least your motive was well intentioned, I came to see what the hell was going on, out of curiosity. Not that I plan to join, I just had to have closure and make the choice not to do so this time.”

“I am certain this place is full of all sorts of memories, good and bad,” Angela replies, though Fareeha only looks out the window, indicating to will to speak of the matter. The doctor could see how closed off the woman was, how different she was from when she was but a young girl running around pretending to be a plane on Ana’s back. It hurt.

 

She stands, “I will be staying a couple weeks, I am occupying the room near the end of the hall, if you wish to visit me, Fareeha. I see you have much on your mind, so do not hesitate to reach out.” She would walk past Fareeha, who had not moved an inch, stopping long enough to lean down and plan a kiss atop her head, as the doctor had always done when they were both younger and more naïve. 

 

“See you around, Justice.” 

 

With that, Angela leaves Fareeha alone with her thoughts. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooweee, I can’t believe 100 people have already read this I AM FLATTERED please remember to leave comments and kudos, I am eager to see the response and what ya’ll think!
> 
> I am off on tumblr under Aurastormgirl, my ask is open!


	3. Pot and Kettle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time changes things

**_1_ **

For a few days she didn’t do anything other than wait. She would sit at night on a roof of one of the training facilities with a beer and a cigarette, letting the cold sting her skin for a bit as she counted the stars and ensured they were where they were meant to be. She did so a handful of nights till she wondered what she was waiting for.  She tried to recall what it was, as if it had ever been spoken what it was. 

 

_ See you around, Justice. _

The ashes fall onto the cup she was using as an ashtray. Angela sounded so certain of variables she had no control over. In her days lounging the abandoned headquarters, she had watched her from a distance. The doctor always seemed busy, interested in the chatter the new recruits and returning veterans had. It weighted Fareeha’s begrudged presence because for someone expecting it all to fall apart she seemed so hopeful. For a fallen angel,she seemed too ready to fly once more.  

The cold made the dogtags burn between the cleft of her breast, reminding her of the names engraved in them, and letting her enjoy the punishment. As the sun fell, her muscles tensed with the night chill. Yet she exhales, reclining her head and puffing smoke and her own warm breath out. If it was to fall why were they both here, waiting?

 

Angela would ruin her career as a doctor, surely she knew so. She leans forward, playing with the iron band around her pinkie. Winston couldn’t possibly allow so.  _ She  _ wouldn’t allow so. But who was Fareeha to  _ allow it?  _ She raised her eyes to the sky, wondering if her mother was watching them like her somewhere out in the sands of Egypt. The cigarette is plucked from her lips as she sighs. She felt like flying. 

The Raptora many times felt like a piece of her, connecting to intimately to her nervous system. Her team joked about addiction to it, though most doctors addressed it as experiencing phantom limb syndrome with it. At times like this, she believed both parties to be right. She craved the sky, the sharpness of the first jet, the pressure to her chest and the rush of freedom…. 

 

A scoff escapes her as she stands up putting out the cigarette on the side of the empty beer bottle, heading inside. This whole enjoying the outdoors wasn’t working. She was done waiting for the night, discarding the vices before going in the general direction of the medical bay, escaping the introspection and seeking to satiate her restlessness in other ways. Angela had said she’d be in her room, but after watching her so carefully, Fareeha was certain to find her in the old lab either working or out of nostalgia. Her gamble pays off, entering to a doctor knelt and bent over a corroded box of files.

 

**_2_ **

Mercy had been looking at old data from the previous lab owner, Moira O’Deorain. “The Minister of Genetics in Oasis?” Fareeha reclines crossing her arms and watching as Angela lifts the box and sets it by her on the old lab,”She worked for Overwatch?”

“Something like that,” Angela mutters looking at them a bit more comfortably,”She was from, mh, a different branch,  _ ja?” _

“I figured. I don’t recall my mother mentioning her,” hums out the soldier,” Why fish through her notes? It seems a bit shady from you, Ziegler.”

“It’s _Angela_ or _Doctor_ _Ziegler_ ,” She punctuates raising an eyebrow and brushing her eyes over Fareeha,”You have been drinking outside again?”

“I hardly consider a beer a drink.” The Egyptian takes the paper from Angela’s hand, scanning over it only to find mostly science jargon, making her wrinkle her nose. Not  _ her kind of science.  _

 

_ “ _ You have grown up to be so rude.” 

Fareeha raises an eyebrow, holding the paper above her head as Angela immediately tries to get it back,”Pardon?”

“You used to be such a polite little girl!” She was still trying, which Pharah found endearing,”But now? You are such an  _ ass.” _

“Why? Because I find it suspicious you are raiding this lab for notes on another scientist’s work?”

“No! — Well, partially— You are so—“ 

“So what, doctor?”

 

She finally jumps and snatches the paper only to rip it in half since Fareeha did not let go. For a second they stood there, holding the halves, only Angela’s soft gasp resounding. 

“So  _ infuriating!”  _ The paper is slapped against her chest, instinctively causing her to catch it with her other hand, holding paper and the doctor’s hand against her chest,”How can you walk around the place like you own it, judging everyone who came out here!” 

“I am not-“

Angela steps back, leaving Fareeha to hold both pieces of paper,”Just because you haven’t said anything doesn’t mean you haven’t thought. I can see how you eye everyone, how you  _ eye me _ . You have no right to do it, any of it. You are not even here to help. At least I am trying to ensure these people are safe until they decide to go home!”

 

The egyptian can’t be angry. Angela was right, completely so, and because of it, all she could do was be quiet and take the rant, “You are not the only one to have lost family, to have not achieved their dreams—“

“ **Stop.”** Fareeha drew a line there, eyes burrowing on Angela’s,”I will stop you there, before you say something neither of us will be happy about. We spoke once, you have no basis or evidence to make or support any of these claims.”

“You are doing it again.”

“Doing what?”

“Hiding behind your training. You cannot fool me, I watched you grow up,” an accusatory finger is pointed at her.

“Exactly,” This time, Fareeha seizes her up, stepping up to the finger letting it to press to her chest as she offered the two halves of paper. They were so close, and yet the sheer amount of tension was enough to effectively act as a wall between them. “I grew up, did you?” Angela visibly flinches, the soldier stepping even further up, pressing Angela’s hand between them as the blonde looked up to her with a mix of confusion and complete disgust, “You came back thinking it’d be like it was before, didn’t you? Thought it would be the fake family you had going before the collapse? And not only that, but thought it’d help with the guilt of Overwatch falling apart easily because you backed away from the mess.”

“Sorry to tell you,  _ Doctor Ziegler _ , but that won’t happen. You can’t build out of ashes.” Fareeha felt that she would have gotten slapped if Angela had any less control. The blonde inhales at that, and steps back.

“I have done more with less,  _ Lieutenant,” _ there was an edge to her voice. She wanted Fareeha to know she’d never be half of what Ana was, and the remark was sharp enough that it made Fareeha’s tattooed eye twitch,” Now if you excuse me, I have work to tend to while you people watch. Get out of the lab.”

 

The Egyptian’s nostrils flare, but she turns and raises her nose, moving away and to exit the laboratory, growling a small, “Harridan.” 

 

**_3_ **

Was she an ass?

 

She couldn’t sleep, staring at the ceiling as she fiddled with the tags. One was being gnawed on while the other hanged there loosely. Fareeha was replaying the argument between her and Angela. It seemed so stupid and pointless, and yet they had both so shamelessly aimed low. She was definitely an ass, but why was Angela so sensitive today? She seemed so vulnerable— had the doctor lost so much control in the previous years?

These thoughts make her tumble around the bed for hours. She would have to apologize, but what could she even do? Would Angela forgive her? Maybe in the morning she could tell right from wrong better ….

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> B oi I spent so much time unsure how to close this chapter but decided this was a good spot. Next chapter should get a little longer ~


	4. The Four Stages

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, the structure yields more clues than the content.

**_1_ **

But she didn’t.

She didn’t apologize. She didn’t look for Angela. She didn’t speak to Winston. The next morning she was on the first flight back to Egypt. She cancelled her vacation and ran back home with her tail tucked between her ankles.  

She was back to work, back to her usual outings, her one-night stands full of ushered words and vacant remarks, to empty nights on the couch strumming a dusty guitar. She was back to being Captain Amari, call sign  _ Pharah _ . 

 

**_2_ **

**_3_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Purposely left this one short. This was too tempting not to do


	5. Denial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Ghost always Watches

**_1_ **

Fareeha was back to her comfortable routine, now incharge of simply overseeing the Anubis program and making the occasional public appearance as Pharah in the glistening blue suit. It was a good life.  Guard duty, occasional missions into the temple to contain any ai getting out of hand, conferences now and again, parties after—

 

And yet the captain was sat at the bar alone while the music played sickeningly loud. She was peering into the bottom of her glass. Then why was it so empty? She pinches the bridge of her nose. Overwatch turned her down. They had the gall of saying no to her, something about experience this or that. Helix had taken her right away, though, and for a fatter paycheck.  _ Not that Justice could be bought _ , she chuckles shaking her head at that, and looking to the side. 

There was a cute blonde woman lingering at the end of the counter. She measured up, eyes eating up the details. Fareeha had managed to tangle partners as she wished, and as her eyes locked on the woman while drinking the last bit of her cup a hand was quick to press to her shoulder. The gloved hand was a bit thin but firm. Fareeha’s eyes turn to the hand with a flare of defiance.

 

“ _ You’ve had enough, captain.” _

 

**_2_ **

“I am fine, mum.”

Fareeha was now on the couch, laid out with a foot still on the floor. Ana had disposed the cloak and the eye patch, walking around the kitchen as she made tea.

“Oh habībti, I taught you to do many things, but lying was not one of them,” Ana chuckled as she poured them both cups.

 

The Shrike was wanted in Egypt. At one point Helix had been tasked with finding her; and Captain Amari had succeeded if just barely. Ana’s aim was true and her darts merciless. For months the Raptora pilot would get shot right out of the air, the criminal finding every crack in the armor to exploit.  For _ months they played hide and seek _ just like when Fareeha was a child. Eventually, though, Ana let her daughter catch her. It had been a long night. Nowadays, Ana was still a ghost in her life, coming and going like a stray cat, much to Fareeha’s dislike.”How was Gibraltar?” 

The question brings her back to the moment, “Cold.”

“You took my badge didn’t you?” 

“It would have been wasted otherwise.”

“You are thicker than me, both from the head and the shoulders, Fa’ee.” 

“I have Sam’s shoulders.”

“So you do.”

 

Their conversations always went like this. Ana returns to her side, offering the sweetened warm tea to her child. The soldier sullenly sits up to picking up the cup, with a grumbled thanks. 

“You don’t usually drink with such reckless abandoned, I figured you saw something at the old HQ you did not like,” Ana sits on the coffee table with a little grunt and an exhale. Her eye was scarred, the tissue damaged and healed but useless. She had never looked at getting it replaced even though it would have been easy; her eyes had been long ago replaced for biotic enhancements, making a scope near useless to her. It was amazing that she had learned to use her other eye with equal if not greater avidity. 

“I saw  _ Overwatch _ which is illegal, mind you,” the pilot points out, sipping the tea. She hated it but that must be because tea was the only thing her mother knew how to prepare without accidentally turning it into poison, “Winston is at it again. He said it was something to do with Talon—“

“But you knew that?”

“From you, yes. He said the ‘the world needs heroes’ -“ She mocks the ape, the vaguely drunk soldier not caring about looking like a fool, though it only makes her mother snort a small laugh, “He is going to get everyone arrested for breaking the Petra’s act.”

“Yet Helix has not addressed it?”

“I haven’t reported anything. Rest assure, next time I am sent there it will be in the raptora armor.”

 

For a second they let the silence hang, Fareeha’s broad shoulders slumped as she enjoyed her cup of tea. Ana continued to seize her up with a single honey eye. “Ah, I know what it is. You came back lonelier than before, habībti.”

“I am  _ not _ lonely.”

“Then where are my grandchildren?!” She gestures with both hands in one of her grand exaggeration.

“ _ Mum.” _

But the old veteran smiles softly leaning forward to cup the soldier’s cheek. Pharah averts her eyes, but is slowly brought back to Ana’s eye, the tattoo of Horus framing the all knowing gaze of a mother, “Who else did you see up in the HQ?”

 

**_3_ **

“Somehow I expected it to be Jack.”

Fareeha had gone to bring back dinner, some chinese food from the corner store. The Amari’s had rearranged, sat side by side. Now Ana sat with her ankles crossed, indian style on the couch, while Fareeha had her ankles propped on the coffee table, both eagerly digging into the food between bite, “No, I only saw Winston and Angela, though Angela said she hadn’t accepted the recall.”

“They can’t charge her if she is not in Athena’s system as an active agent,” Ana points out, “But we know Winston would never force her to do so. In a way she found the caveat, working with Overwatch without saying so.”

 

Fareeha stops chewing at that, blinking straight ahead, earning a glance from the Shrike, “What, had my genius daughter not thought of that?”

“I thought she was just curious like me-!”

“Angela was always so much smarter than you.”

It was a joke that made Fareeha roll her eyes, “She will be investigated anyways, everyone knows she was Mercy.”

“Yes, and you say so like that wouldn’t be positive leverage. Mercy worked in countless relief ops, she has more good deeds under her belt than  _ either _ of us, habībti, many hold her to high esteem,” Ana draws a circle with the chopsticks, “And she already has the captain of Helix in her purse.”

“Excuse me?”

“You always had a crush on the doctor,” Her mother wiggles an eyebrow, “Devastating. Though I hear that now even same-sex couples can have children—“

“She was looking through a doctor’s files. Does the name Moira O’Deorain ring a bell?”

 

That sobered Ana right up, who shakes her head, “Whatever you want with that ‘iiblis its not worth it.”

“I want nothing with them, it's more that Angela was ruffling through that paperwork, mentioned she worked for another branch of Overwatch… something I never heard about?”

The Shrike exhales, it’d be another long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had been procastinating but a comment in particular motivated me to get back on it!
> 
> Again, if ever you can find my tumblr ask open, aurastormgirl , for any questions and comments that you want to get to me faster


	6. Grief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The expected can still be unexpected

**_1_ **

Morning would come as it always did. Fareeha had taken the couch, offering her mother the bed available, though it mattered little since the Shrike was gone when the soldier came to offer breakfast. All she found was a made bed and a little bag filled with her mother’s favorite hard candy; some canadian strawberry candy that she remembered her mom always carried in her coat even in her young days in deployment. 

She sighs and picks up the bag, recalling the previous night.

 

Her mother told her all about BlackWatch, about Moira the minister of Genetics that had been spared from further scrutiny by simply slinking off to Oasis. Ana admitted her rifle had been made using Angela’s technology  _ and  _ Moira’s,the damaging duality to her gun being in a way, a hybrid of the two doctors’ work. A monstrosity built against their complete will, Ana having pushed her executive power to gain access to get what  _ she wanted _ .  Blackwatch got out of hand, Overwatch fell. It was part of the things that a young Amari did not understand in her dreams to go join a dying association— In a way, it also played into Ana not allowing her entry. It would have been a loss to join something collapsing within a few years. And Helix just  _ happened _ to receive a good letter of recommendation.  

Nowadays it made more sense why so many people had wanted her dead.

 

Fareeha goes about her morning routine. Again, Again and Again. One day after another. Until it happened as she had expected. Once more to the guard duty, idle missions and one night stands with random blonde women that fell for the captain’s charm.

 

The day of a public press conference Helix announced they would be addressing the suspicions and rumors of Overwatch activity, announcing that crowd favorite, Fareeha Amari, would be leading the investigation. Even the cameras captured her surprise at hearing that. She was the face of Helix, she had history with Overwatch, had a perfect record, had the pristine judgement, had the pedigree to approach anything alone with the clear mind—  _ she was being deployed alone to quell public concerns. _

Concerns she knew were all too real. Concerns that involved Angela and Winston and countless of well-intentioned innocents.  _ Justice was not prepared _ .

 

**_2_ **

She had tried to get out of it, but her superiors had insisted on her being the best option. A quick go and come back, a small report, nothing more would come from it and it’d probably settle the public down specially after the fiasco with Anubis. No need for an airship, she was deployed ASAP and with no plan. They were seriously not expecting much out of this venture.

This time Fareeha was making the flight herself. The Raptora VI was equipped with more than enough fuel to carry her straight to Gibraltar in a short amount of time, much to her disdain.

 

She landed after a long flight of thinking and trying to find the best solution. The only one. The one where the least amount of people were affected. Eyes fell on her as she stood tall, removing her helm and shaking her hair into order. This time it wasn’t Fareeha but  _ Pharah. _ Not curiosity, but duty. “Winston?” No further words are spoken, then point her in the needed direction.

 

Her hand grips the edge of the helm as she walks firmly with a hardened spine. She knew since she opened that box in her apartments months ago that it’d be impossible to put it all away once more. The Chief knew Winston would be made aware. She knew he wouldn’t run. He waited on his chair for the executioner. The soldier enters quietly. They hold eye contact and he nods, lower his head and jaw unclenching aware of what this meant. 

 

“I must take someone to blame. I can’t go back empty handed. Someone had to reset Athena and confirm the recall,” she tucks the raptora’s beak under her arm,”If I say Talon did it they will send someone to investigate the whole base.  _ One _ has to come and take the entirety of the punishment.”

“Then I will go.” He said already going to stand, “I did this.”

“Winston, if I take you I can’t know what Helix and the United Nations will do you.  _ You aren’t human or omnic _ , the war treaties don’t apply to you.”

“Then what you suggest?” He seems confused, concerned, and a little scared of what she was about to propose.

“Give me  _ Angela.” _

 

He knew why. If they did anything too harsh she would become a martyr to Overwatch. She would be a face to an unjust persecution. The public would rally and Ensure she was safe. They would fight for Mercy.

“You have till I fix a two person airship. Two days, three tops. Make a decision by then, because I will take someone, and this is the last chance I give you to somewhat fix what you caused,” she turns, walking to the door.

 

**_3_ **

 

She had left a set of clothes in the room, knowing full well she would return in some untimely manner. As she showered she had the comfort of knowing she had something cool to wear after an entire day in the raptora. Fareeha was all for walking around her apartment pretty much naked, since the armor felt all too tight. And that is why showers were her favorite time of the day. 

She had a night to sleep and give Winston time to make his choice. Someone had to be the victim, because every action had a consequence.

 

That is probably why the knock at her door in the middle of the night came as no surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New semester new job new program
> 
> Sorry this took so long but I simply had no chance till now to find a way to complete this chapter! As before, feel free to reach me http://aurastormgirl.tumblr.com/post/177960859870/aurastormgirl-justice-rains-from-above   
> Over here! 
> 
> Ps. Idly related, I am actually someone who studies literature so if you think its a reference if probably is


	7. Bargaining

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Captain and the Doctor

**_1_ **

The soldier had opened the door, received a plastic bottle to the head and was on the floor struggling with Mercy. In all honesty, if it had been glass there could have been serious damage, but the plastic bottle had bounced off with relatively no consequence. The doctor had her straddled and would have probably been wailing on Fareeha had the pilot not grabbed her wrists and held them still. She wrenched them over, turning the pin around, “Ziegler!  _ At ease!”  _  Angela kicks a few times, breath exalted from the tumble. The sigh gave Fareeha a good waft of the Swiss woman’s breath, thick with alcohol, “Have you been drinking?” Suddenly she was glad it had been a water bottle and not a whiskey one.

“Let me go!”

“Then stop trashing!”

 

After another minute, she finally quits, frowning up at Fareeha, whose eyes burned in annoyance. She raises an eyebrow at Mercy, who scoffs. Her hands go off the doctor palms up ready to hold her if she tried anything— but seeing as how she did not attempt further aggression, the egyptian got up and closed the door of the room as Angela went onto her shaky feet. “What were you thinking?” 

“You complete bastard.”

“Arguably that is a biological fallacy, but personality wise? I will bite.”

“You came back just to ruin Overwatch’s shot at repairing itself!”

Fareeha points a finger at Angela as if that action would will the doctor to zip it, “I was  _ sent _ . And I am doing all of you a favor.”

“Favor?  _ Favor?!  _ You are such an egotistical—“

“Are you here just t—“

“Narcissistic, incompetent—“

“Angela.”

“Disgraceful, Cretin!” Angela throws a hand into the air, “Pretending to give us mercy when you are very well stripping the world of hope!”

_ “ _ Are you done.”

_ “Justice?  _ You are a damned gun for hire for a corporation with likely ties to Talon! Your mother is lucky to not have to—“

“I will pretend that’s where you stop.” 

“See you do this to people she fought so hard to protect! Why not just become one of Cairo’s bounty hunters?! You glorified and corrupt policeman, all for a paycheck!”

 

A heavy silence settles. Angela is huffing, waiting for anything from the veteran in front of her. The spur ends, her stance drops a bit; Fareeha’s brown eyes burned with nothing but complete rage, jaw a tight line. “Are. You. Done.”

Silence once more.

“I was sent to find whoever sent the signal. Helix knows there is someone here, but they rather sweep it under the rug with some half baked excuse. What I am doing is buying Winston time. If I take him in there is no knowing what the UN will do to him. You? You are a hero. If I tell them it was all a test on Athena, maybe I can sway them to forget about it. I can take the ape to get put down or I can take the _once diplomatic Mercy._ The public won’t let anything happen to you, neither will I. So go. Drink and bitch elsewhere, I _am_ doing you a favor,” She points to the door, firmly, “I need to sleep so I can figure out how to get us out of here without arising any suspicions.”

Angela looks to the door, eyes fall to the floor. A soft whimper asks, “Am I going to prison?”

“Not if this ingrate can help it, now get out, Mercy.”

 

The doctor complies, seeing herself out as ordered. Fareeha closes the door and returns to bed, taking a seat at the edge of it. A decision had been made. She reaches into her bag and calls Helix.

 

**_2_ **

In two days, Fareeha had figured out the best course, and had instructed Angela in what needed to be done, ”We are walking most of the way, then I will jet us to the closest city. It will be chilly and wet due to rain, bring clothes. We will sleep once in that time, I suggest the emergency thermal sleeping bags. Take what you must, remember you will be carrying it for plenty of miles and anything that may not fit our alibi will be discarded before the final flight.”

The doctor had decided on her response suit, though she layered over it as she could. Her bag had a few important files she had fetched but other than that? Her bag was filled with the necessary supplies, staff over her back. She found it amusing that Fareeha had put some military pants over bottom of the armor and replaced the shoes with boots made for trekking. Under the armor was two compression shirts, and she wore the checkered scarf around her neck. Her bag was latched at the back of her hip on some hooks, while the rocket launcher was slung.  While Angela spent a good amount of time waving her goodbyes, Fareeha waited by road, more than happy to start the trip after an hour of waves and good wishes, both given warm thermos of coffee to see them off.

 

For hours they walked quiet. Mercy’s eyes where on Fareeha, who kept her attention on their path, checking her visor’s HUD to ensure they were on the right path.

“You are more similar your father than to your mother.”

The comment came with no offense nor bite, just a small observation from the doctor that had met a young Fareeha, and yet said soldier looked over her shoulder with a frown, “Pardon?”

“You are so serious. Not even Ana pretended to be so stoic, that was more what Sam did,” she wipes some drizzle off her shoulder blade, looking to the soldier as if to update her on the coming rain,”I hardly saw her in a foul mood.”

“I am working.”

“You must always be working.”

A small grunt escapes Fareeha’s throat, but continues their wall in quiet thought for many hours.

 

She eventually pushes through some thicket, making it into a clearing from the roughed brush out into clear view of the coasts of Gibraltar. The shore was littered with omnic caracasses and old abandoned vehicules. The sand seemed a bit wet from the start of the rain, ”Stretch your wings. We will fly over this bit.” She jets up, and Mercy follows, the two making their way over the footprint of an old battle. A short flight and Fareeha lands them on a bluff, turning to catch Angela as the doctor lowers into her strong palms. 

She is quick to set her down, but not before Angela thanks her anyway as she tries to hide behind the visor,”The rain is starting, we should take shelter within one of rock formations.”

 

Doing as agreed, the doctor finds a deep enough crevice that they can both lay down under it and even sit within cover once they dig just a bit more. The soldier jets to find some brush swiftly, bringing it back as Angela sets up the bags, digging a ‘ditch’ around their little den with a rock to divert any water that braved too close. Before long they have a campfire going, and are indulging in some military rations in some well deserved rest. It was almost cozy.

 

Fareeha stares into the rain, helm to her side, unaware of Angela’s scrutinizing baby-blue eyes.She wonders what had happened to Fareeha to take away that youthful wonder that filled her so. Perhaps losing Ana? Maybe it was being turned down from Overwatch? There was a distance to her gaze foreign to Angela. 

 

“I am sorry, about what happened,” She can read the confusion in the soldier’s face as she finally speaks,”How we met, how I reacted. What I said a few nights ago, how I behaved. About losing Ana, losing touch with you.”

“It’s okay,” A spoonful goes to her mouth, thoughtfully chewing,”I can’t say you aren’t right in part about all that you said.” She sets the can down, reclining on her sleeping bag,”I stayed at Helix for the paycheck pretending I could help more than just Cairo. For a long while it has not been about justice but about what I can do in short term. While I have managed to stop some of the pests in the city’s underbelly, very little has changed, hasn’t it?” 

“You left so suddenly, I—“  _ I was hurt _ . Unable to finish, Angela trails off, thankful that Pharah fills the blanks and hesitation with her continued talk.

“I did not know what to tell you, Angela. I was just doing my job, I am sorry if I offended you in doing so. I was not going to stay, I did not have answers for you nor the right questions, it was best of me to just step away. I hoped Helix would have no business with Overwatch,” a small head shake as she picks up her meal again, poking at it with the spork,”I am sorry it had to end in this much trouble for you.”

“I made my decisions.”

“As have I.”

 

For a while, they watch the rain. The droplets tap away at long gone omnics.

 

**_3_ **

The next morning, Fareeha is the first to awake. She stretches this way or that, having slept uncomfortable from the raptora. “Doctor Ziegler, it is time to move.”

“Five more minutes.”

The captain looks over seeing as the doctor scrunches her shoulders before relaxing them and sitting up with a bit of bed hair. She smiles at this.

“Alright, but just while I make sure I know where we are going,” She scoots out patting Angela’s shoulder while setting the helm on.

 

They would make it to the flight area within a few hours, the walk a pleasant chatty one. Fareeha and Angela seemed much more comfortable speaking with one another, and even with the doctor’s nerves from speaking to Helix, she trusted Fareeha. They land in a local town for pick up where they are then flied to Cairo’s Helix.

 

Fareeha reminded her superiors that while Overwatch activity was certainly illegal, there had been no activity whatsoever in addition to Angela’s willingness to come to Cairo and speak about the seeming error within Athena. The base was empty to her knowledge, and will likely remain so, as Captain Amari’s word rung to the superiors. They were not keen on letting Angela go without at least some press to disperse concern, so they requested she stayed in Cairo until further notice and that they would count that as her  _ detainment _ time. Surely, the doctor could find something to do in a month’s time. Not that she had much of a choice.

 

And that was how she ended up living with Captain Amari.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You thought I was dead and yet here I am! I have moved away from tumblr and you can now find me @Aura_Stormgirl in twitter!
> 
> I hope you are ready for some S P I C Y stuff next chapter!!!


	8. Acceptance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selfishness can be freeing

**1**

Angela Ziegler was a woman of science. There was interest in seeing the way their routines fitted together— or rather did not.

Fareeha was up at an ungodly hour, usually 4 am or 5 am, depending on whether she was going for a morning run or working out after work. It was always followed by a cold shower, and a hastily prepared breakfast. The only thing done with care and variation was the preparation of her morning beverage: Sometimes coffee, sometimes tea. Sometimes cream, others milk. It was perplexing since she had known Ana to only drink tea and was certain Sam, Fareeha’s father, also prefered tea. Regardless with the cup drank she would go to the door, board her jeep and not come back till very late. On Wednesdays, the Captain would not return till it was Thursday, smelling of alcohol; she learned Fareeha typically had Thursdays and Fridays off to allow others with family the weekend. Every other night, Fareeha took a cold shower, made dinner or ordered take out, watched the 9 pm news and headed to bed at 10 on the dot. Angela Ziegler was a woman of science, and what she found most fascinating was the little quirks to the way Fareeha did everything. Fareeha removed her shoes as soon as she entered, then emptied her pockets, then her jacket. What was interesting was that she usually snored loudly and the way she hated sandals or having to wear clothes at home for the matter; Angela figured this was because of how stuffy the raptora could get. She was certain that at bed time, the captain preferred nothing at all. There was also the fact she never held a cup by the handle, how she spent the longest on her eyeliner, or that she had the tendency of hooking her thumb on her belt buckle.

Meanwhile, Angela sometimes forgot to sleep or eat, her coffee was always black and when she remembered to empty her pockets there was usually coffee receipts or notes she wrote to herself and forgot existed. While a creature of habit and discipline in the field and work, it usually came at the cost of her own self care. The fact Fareeha balanced both work and herself was worthy of respect; but somehow she felt like Fareeha found Angela’s irregularities charming, so much so that once or twice she joked about domesticity between them. “It would feel more real if I did not have a tracker on my ankle,” Angela replies reading some news in the late evening. Thankfully, nowadays the anklets were not bulky but bands, and she usually concealed it under a sock. Fareeha never understood her need for warm fluffy socks indoors but she wouldn’t judge the doctor.

“You are lucky they gave you a generous radius and can go to the cafè,” she emptied her pockets before hanging the dusty jacket where she always did,”But I am glad to hear you are somewhat comfortable.”

“It’s been two months, I feel as if by now you have basically adopted me. I wish they would allow me to work,” the doctor exhales loud, lowering the paper as Fareeha came and sat on the couch by her, propping up her feet on the coffee table: another one, she always sat in that precise spot and propped her heels on the small table.

“I’ll remind the top dogs about you. Wouldn’t put it past them that they forgot poor lil Mercy,” she jests, ruffling the blonde hair roughly and getting the doctor to swat at her hand as the soldier chuckles.

“Please. I will go mad in the handful mile radius.” For a minute they watch the news. Or Angela does. She feels the brown eagle gaze on her.

“Can I help you?”

“Do you not miss the Valkyrie suit?” It was a small question, almost shy, like she shouldn’t ask. Mercy looks to the abashed pilot. Part of her wondered if that was a taboo question among Helix pilots. She was aware why.

“My neural nodes are not as deep as say, yours. So , no, I am not experiencing connection withdrawals as a raptora pilot would by now.” The answer seemed to suffice and Pharah leaves it at that, eventually standing to reheat her dinner, offering her a plate as always. They eat quietly.

“So, any plans for tomorrow?” Another question breaks the silence and earns a loud laugh from Angela.

**2**

Angela Ziegler is a woman of science. She takes pride in her objective nature. It is why she is unsure as to the reason she is letting angry tears lose, or why she expected anything else. Her walk back home is nothing short of shameful and wounded. She is not sure what she expected. She is not sure why she is hurt.

Angela Ziegler should not have expected anything but this. Fareeha had obviously been popular on base. She was popular off it, how could she not? Angela should have foreseen what those late bar nights end in; and yet…. That blonde woman in Helix uniform had approached with overt familiarity, walked two fingers over Fareeha’s bicep and let a single one play with that firm jaw. The whole time, the Captain’s eyes burned with something she had never seen.

Some kind of annoyance and pained glare. Words hung with honey clashed with Fareeha’s harsh tone, “Lily, I suggest you return to your entourage.”

“It is odd to see you here with company, Captain.” It was a jarring exchange, and sweet gone sour was the glare this so-called Lily gave Angela while she made some uncouth comment about the doctor’s companion— her date. Because Fareeha had invited her out. She remembered the almost Juvenile smirk on the Captain’s face when Angela said yes. How she jokingly asked what time she could pick Angela up. How thrilled Angela was to see a bit further into the little quirks Fareeha carried to her after their discussion on connection withdrawals.

How foolish she had been to think of this as a formal date, something that meant anything to Pharah. God, she felt completely stupid and that translated to anger, even more so when she recalled how the pilot had begged of her to stay. And now she stubbornly walked home alone… the long walk home. Part of her wished she would have been quiet and ignored it, pretended she hadn’t heard the comment about Pharah having a thing for blondes.

Against all odds she makes it home before Fareeha, who arrives twenty minutes later by foot. She comes in straight to Angela’s bedroom, obviously still a bit tipsy as she had been when Lily approached, but who was she to judge, Angela was too. The difference was the beer was still in her hand was to douse her anger, while Fareeha had another in her anxiety before hurrying over. “Angela.”

There she was, in her shoes, in a dusty jacket half removed caught in the nook of her elbows, chest still rising and falling in puffs from the brisk power walk, phone, wallet and keys still obviously in her pocket. Even from where she sat at the edge of her bed, Mercy could see concern in those brown eyes that never betrayed. A window straight into the Egyptian’s heart, a window she wondered how many times neared closure never to be opened again. Even as soft as they were, she could see the single word Fareeha uttered tug at something, “Angela.”

How could she do something so unintentionally affection after all this? How was it that she could just walk in as she did and stab her pulse? Angela felt the cold aluminum of the beer drip with perspiration and she wondered if it was the same as the droplets that ran down the tight line that was Fareeha jawline. “Angela.”

Silence. “Angela?”

**3**

Angela Ziegler is a woman of science above all. She is so in mind, heart and body. It is why she was able to wordlessly will Fareeha closer by hooking a thumb into the buckle of her belt. Why she knew the shoes had to go first and then the jacket. Why she knew how eager Fareeha would be to remove her clothes for her, to lay her own mind, heart, and body bare for the Swiss doctor whose hands did nothing but nurse scarred tissue. They reopened wounds but closed them in their wake. The fingertips graced her skin whether it was the bronzed color or a whitened injured tone.

Angela loves the deep huffed chuckle as the captain holds her beer, tipping her head back to drink what was left of as the buckle comes undone. The can is discarded as the belt is finally opened, the doctor’s lips kissing below the navel, still wetten from the beer she had only drank a third of. Her mind swam with the warmth from Fareeha and the minutes before the precise moment her lips crowned the meager space between the parted jeans’ buttons. There had been some wild urgency. Not quite the one of postponed passion but one of memories. Not nostalgic, but ones they wanted, they needed. It didn’t have to be spoken. Fareeha’s hand weaved with familiarity into Angela’s gold locks, and Angela’s hand seemed to perfectly for the back of Fareeha’s thighs.

They had last seen one another some ten years ago, at Ana’s funeral. A young Fareeha, 22 years old, had not stuck around and had left with the smallest of goodbyes: a text message from the plane. A more mature Angela, 27 years old, could not understand. She had thought they were close, perhaps too close for Ana’s approval. She recalled trying to follow the young Amari’s trail while the young woman attempted to grow into the shoes left by her mother. Last she saw a picture of Fareeha she must have been 25 and earning her first award in the Egyptian military. It was comforting to hear that Angela was 37 in the last picture Fareeha found of her. A fairly recent one. Of the doctor having saved a patient whose procedure had been impossible.

Now, as Angela’s dress hiked up and Fareeha nestled between her legs, calloused fingers holding her toned thighs like they were simply the most precious valuable in the household, she wondered why she had never expected the captain to be so prompt to service her. It must have been the arrogance she saw in her when Fareeha found her in Gibraltar, carried on those broad shoulders that were now sliding under knees and lifting her to just the precise angle. The captain’s tongue dug deep, pressing lovingly. Even tipsy it was clear to Angela why Fareeha never once failed to come home with company, specially if her partners made sure her reputation followed her. God, why had this woman waited so long? Why had it taken months for her to come close?

She was shamefully close, her own hand shamelessly groping at her own breast. Why not in Gibraltar? Why had she been such a dick _then_? Mercy gasps, turning the noise into a groan of complaint as Pharah moves up, two fingers replacing her tongue that was busy with the one breast Angela was neglecting in favor of pulling the soldier’s thick raven mane. Why leave or even fly up there? Her mind grows fuzzy, buzzing as she feels her body push on those two fingers fucking her oh so avidly. Her lips find Fareeha’s, by now exchanging more saliva than words. She had been right, the captain had been sweating before, but now she was thoroughly working out, her free hand sliding under Angela.

It takes over, gripping over the doctor’s palm roughly squeezing as her treatment did not ease. She was making Angela’s body scream, fully cradled and manipulated by Fareeha. Her body responded to and only the wonderful attack on her senses.

Mercy is certain she says something or other as she reaches a conclusion and her climax, but it isn’t until the fifth time she tries to speak while Pharah cleans her fingers with her tongue that she can articulate fully: “You came _for me.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello I am still alive! You can contact me at @Aura_stormgirl in twitter nowdays. I wanna work a but more on this, specially since I am getting in the habit of writing some before bed. 
> 
> Please, be sure to tell what you think and I take requests in twitter! You can even use curious cat to request annonymoysly!


	9. A road to Rome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A perspective switch

**_1_ **

 

Standing before the mirror, Fareeha dried her hair. She wondered why she was in no hurry to go for a run. It was her habitual time, 4:30 am, yet she had showered instead. She checked at her face, distracted momentarily on her tattoo thinking how odd it was that the night had ended as it did. She yawns and reaches back to scratch at the node at the base of her neck. Surely missing a day of working out would not kill her. With that she decides to go back to bed. It was Thursday, she could rest.

 

Her bare feet shuffle along the hard 

wood floor as she does the knot on her sweats, still topless. Though she headed towards her bedroom she stops at the door of Angela’s room peering inside. Fearing she has overstayed her welcome, she continues her shuffle, hand rubbing over her shoulder. Her bed felt welcoming.

 

For a bit she lays there looking at the ceiling, a thorn of loneliness deeply embedded in her heart. She thought she had forever rid herself of that thorn and its pains. Long ago had she left behind  _ crushes _ and longing for someone by her side. Or maybe she never stopped? It seemed juvenile, when Angela was asleep in the room right next door, naked with a corner of the bed sheet covering her, voice hoarse.

 

Pharah must have fallen asleep to that image quite deeply, because she did not wake till felt a weight on top of her. Her hands grip at what her foggy mind thinks is an aggressor, only to find her palms around the soft wrists of the doctor. The buck of her heart calms and she exhales out a groan, letting go and dropping her hands onto the bed. “You scared me,” why she is whispering is beyond her since they are alone in her home, but it is funny that Angela whispers back.

“And you left me alone in bed.”

“I was going to go for my run.”

“But you didn’t. You could have come back.”

“Shut up and just get in bed, it's like five am—“

 

The comment makes Angela frown, huffing a bit. Fareeha realized that was perhaps too rough, specially as Angela mutters something in german before rolling next to Pharah. The captain thinks that is that and starts to try and doze when she feels Angela trying to nestle in against her back as if trying to spoon the larger woman, “Uhm no.” She wiggles like an impatient cat and drops on her back like the pounds of muscle she was. This forced Mercy to scoot back, a hand on the egyptian’s abdomen

“Excuse me?”

“No.”

“I understand if you don’t like somethings, but you literally fucked me two or three times and left me in the bed alone. I am just trying to return the favor or give you some aftercare. Is that not the polite thing?” Angela sat up gesturing vaguely at the dark. Now Pharah notices that the doctor was in the t-shirt she had left in her bedroom. If she had to guess, Fareeha would say there was nothing under.

 

Fareeha did not want to talk about this. It was not the time. Not now. She sits to see Angela eye to eye, her hand attempting to fix some of the stray blonde hair, “I don’t like being held from behind, that is all. You can stay in the bed, just none of that.” She looked at those wise baby blues, knowing that while she accepted the condition she wondered the reason why, or more likely; if  _ she _ was the reason.  The silence ends when Mercy simply agrees and lays down, facing away and into the wall where the bed was tucked against. The captain exhales, laying down and facing her alarm clock away from Angela.

 

The sun starts to rise through the window as they lay back to back.

 

**2**

 

Fareeha appreciated Angela’s attempt at respecting her space. After that night, they kept things as normal, like domestic roommates and don’t discuss further. The doctor seemed to understand Pharah was not looking for a stable relationship, that the reason she always moved out of the bed was to prevent any temptation for lingering further. But, what was her excuse?

 

Firstly, it had been because she knew her heart was hoping for Angela. All those years she had hoped for destiny to put her in the doctor’s path. To have a chance at maybe seeing if they would be good for one another. Now that it was here she seemed to be unable to put those walls down. She wanted to. She had to. And so the captain traces a plan. 

 

For the week she watches Mercy. She learns about the doctor’s quirks and wonders how she had never noticed these things, makes a list close to her heart, takes her time to learn of and from Angela Ziegler. 

 

Though her time of getting up was irregular to say the least, Fareeha found that the average wake up time for Angela was 9:37 am. She always had a cup of coffee, black, in the same mug (Mug that Fareeha never noticed the doctor had claimed.) After that, Mercy tended to roam the house while she drank her cup. Now that she was in the place right place, she would go for midday runs, saying that she loved the desert sun. Sometimes she ate, sometimes she forgot, but she always sat by the window to read regardless, and she had a soft spot for detective novels. At night, she always had what Fareeha prepared. Later she learned Angela had cold showers at night while she listened to the news before bed, usually around two a.m. 

 

Angela Ziegler checked her watch often, always looked into her pockets when bored, scratched her cheek with an index finger when thinking and did not like napping even when it happened often. She would always chase the sun and sit under it, like a sunflower, and would push her bangs out of her face when focused on a task. Fareeha had never noticed how deep her blue eyes looked when she was enthralled in an activity. How had she never noticed how those delicate hands had precision and dexterity beyond anything she had seen?

 

Part of her wondered when she becomes so detached from the people around her. A bit of her knew she missed out on many things from

the multiple lovers she once entertained. Maybe she missed out on the best of those people,  _ like Lily _ . There was no time to mourn those bridges she burned though, especially she planned to break that habit, and she was starting tonight. 

 

“It’s Wednesday, don’t you usually go out?”

“If you want me to go I can,” Pharah jests, making a pot of coffee. “I thought we would celebrate your extra miles on the anklet tomorrow, so I don’t want to go out and drink myself stupid.”

“You hear that?  _ That _ is growth,” Angela snorts and waggles a finger over her shoulder watching the news,”I bet your entourage will be disappointed you left them out in the cold, what do you have in mind?”

It was early afternoon, about five and Fareeha dropping on the couch made Angela bounce on the other end,”A couple things.”

“If it's staying in, it better be something good.”

 

**_3_ **

**_. . ._ **

**_. . ._ **

**_. . ._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short one because next chapter ... Is just gonna be self indulgent, and for anyone who prefers to skip that kinda stuff it will be easier! I have spring break and I am relaxing so I want to get it written over this break. (Self care )
> 
> .... Anyways, you can still find me https://twitter.com/Aura_Stormgirl here! Please feel free to use curiouscat for questions if you wanna go anon. Please feel free to contact me


	10. Intimacy

**_1_ **

 

 “Really?” “Yes.” “Are you certain?” “Yes.” 

 

Angela seems uncertain, but she concedes. Her arms wrap around Fareeha’s waist. She lingers like that, waiting a few moments before she presses her cheek into the soldier’s back. She can feel the tense muscle under the body-fitting shirt, the solid black one she knew so well and loved for the way it left so little for her imagination. Angela can compare this pose to the one Pharah carried in the armor. Her face turns a bit into the soldier taking in her scent.

 

Pharah smells of the desert freshness, that soft chill in the early morning. She can’t help her hands roaming a bit, splaying over the abs and giving her a squeeze in her arms. “Thank you,” Fareeha’s hands go over hers. Silence covers them. Angela moves a bit, standing on her toes to hook her chin over the captain’s shoulder. They stood before a mirror, a little agreement so Fareeha could see some of Angela. However, the doctor was surprised to see those fierce brown eyes closed.  She watches for a few seconds, the focus of the seemingly peaceful acceptance. Her hand continues to trace muscle. There is a softness and vulnerability that she has never seen before and she is honored to be witnessing it.

 

Fareeha was truly attempting a feat. She could tell the captain was doing her best, trying to feel nothing but comfort in Angela’s arms, in her hands. She can respect that and thinks Fareeha would not know how much she appreciates this vote of trust. Her hands go still for a bit as she leans up closer.“I think we look great,” she jests ever softly into the Egyptian’s ear, which immediately starts to redden,”But you look best, liebling.”  Angela was no angel. Her fingertips slide over the sweats, past the waistband, staying two layers of fabric too far, “Did you dress up for me?” 

 

**_2_ **

 

“I know usually, you don’t wear a shirt around the house, and I am fairly certain you never have anything under the sweats,” Angela whispers into her ear, so close she feels the lick of her breath, the puff of every verbal articulation, “Do you sleep naked, captain? Is that the only way you can feel comfortable?” 

 

It really should not be so easy to drive her absolutely mad, and yet she was painfully aware of Angela pulling at her strings like they had been lovers for more than a single night. It makes her open her eyes and chance a glance at the two arms around her waist, almost sure that Angela had strayed into her sweats, wishing she had. No: One hand was rubbing the heel of its palm into her abdomen, and the other carelessly walked two fingers down her thigh. A deep burn ignites her body — “Captain?” Comes the question prompting an incoherent headshake, and a small melodious laugh from Angela who kisses her under the jaw. “It’s okay, did I overstep a boundary? I may have gotten carried away—“

Fareeha can see out of the corner of her eye that Mercy’s cheeks are a bit rosie, and that she bites at her lip.

 

Her memories tell her that this casual bite lip is reserved exclusively for arousal. This is an expression she only saw on Angela when she had two fingers in her and her lips where she never thought she would. “Not all,” her tone is urgent and she sees Angela relax. It was obvious Fareeha was allowing her more, but to be clear she says it: “Please, continue.”

 

It seems like she gave Angela all the doctor could want, kissing at her neck, “Come to bed. How did you manage any satisfaction from other partners if you did not allow then to get intimate?” It was a relatively harmless question but  a good one. Fareeha thinks in it before answering, watching Angela’s hand hold hers. Soon enough she is sat on the edge of the bed. 

“Typically I wear a strap on … one of those that hooks to neural nodes. I can take over easily that way and still get off,” she is a bit embarrassed to say so, not the fact itself but the transparency to her statement. She did say she would be honest to Angela so as to clear the air between them after a one night stand with her roomate.

“I am surprised I didn’t get to see it, I bet you can use these abs quite well,” Angela straddles Fareeha’s lap, leaning into place a soft kiss in her lips,”Do you want to use it?” She bumps her forehead onto Fareeha’s , pressing it close while their nose barely touched. The captain’s hands go onto Angela, running up her back.

“If you would like?” She also wants Angela to enjoy herself, and they had only really talker about holding from behind, nothing about having sex again. Mercy nods, but is reluctant to let Fareeha get up again and get out her toy. Thankfully the whole process takes no more than three minutes, since Fareeha has owned this piece of equipment for a bit for a long time. A blue-ish hue, nothing outlandish in the size department and comfortable straps. 

 

“My only complaint is not getting to undress you myself, so let me at least take your shirt—“ Angela takes the corners of her shirt and slides it off Fareeha, giggling as her fingers run over the olive skin, “ Was I right? About Never have anything under those sweats?”

“You were.” Fareeha returns the favor, removing the shirt that the doctor had been wearing for pajamas, “I spend enough time in the raptora that it is nice to remember I am not one in the same with it.”  

Fareeha’s hands are once more roaming her now bare skin, and her eyes seem to be taking in the little details she had missed last time. Angela pulls her into a much more passionate kiss, hand weaving into the raven locks. Instead of parting, she mutters against her lips, “Less thinking and more doing, Captain.”

 

The egyptian reddens a bit, but she complies as Angela leads her towards the bed, once more putting her under herself. It would be a lie to say she didn’t like the view. Their hands always seem occupied with something, but it's Fareeha who slides her hands down to massage Angela’s clit while they make out, painfully away of  the tip of the strap on that keeps bumping into the doctor’s soft abdomen. Five minutes into fondling and trading saliva has them both panting already, and Fareeha can’t help but feel like she had never been quite this worked up. Her finger slides lower slipping into the doctor and gently moving in and out, causing her to moan against her neck. “Ah, Fareeha, your hands are wonderful,” coos Angela, nuzzled into her neck while she pinches at the young Amari’s nipple. 

 

Every attempt to turn them over and place herself on top are denied, and soon Fareeha accepts that she will have to do the work from under Angela until the doctor allows her movement. Locking lips once more she removes her fingers and slides the shaft of the toy against Mercy, feeling the dampness wet up some of what is temporarily  _ her _ length. “Come on, captain,” Angela lifts her hips holding steady as she allows Fareeha space to line up and start to push into her. While Fareeha’s groans are quiet and breathy, whe loved how sonorous Angela is, specially when she hilts all the way into her; the sharp gasp sounds wonderful to Pharah who very quickly starts to work her hips. Her arms wrap around Angela, pressing their bodies closely.

 

She can feel the grind of Angela’s hips against her, pushing in tandem to her own thrusts. At some point, Angela gets comfortable riding her, and even then their lips are hungry for one another. Pharah’s body is overheating, and she wonders how Angela’s hands can stay so cold against her skin. Suddenly she is aware of the loud noises coming from their hips smashing against one another, the caught breaths and raspy pants, Angela mumbling in german before repeating her name over and over again. The doctor’s hands grope her chest, brace on her as she tries to ride any amount of harder. She is certain they are both sweating, but it looks wonderful on Angela, soft skin glistening in dim light. Fareeha groans to herself, watching the doctor close her eyes, bite her lip as her body shudders and tenses. This was lovely. Heaven in her own apartment. The captain can’t last much longer like this… 

 

Before she knows it, Angela collapses in her panting, not too different from her honestly. They both lay there, groaning and huffing against one another, Fareeha still hilted into her lover. “N-not bad, captain.”

 

**_3_ **

 

Both stay in bed, Angela in her arms. “So after Overwatch?”

“I went back to the Swiss army. I worked for them, until I found a nice hospital to settle in and work for. It was nice, to help those in difficult times, the army was happy to pay for the good will of the civilians when the Omnics were still causing issues,” Angela is comfortably settled, playing with the golden braids in Fareeha’s hair, “And you?”

“Well, I finished school, got back to Egypt’s army, I worked as a mechanic for a bit to get familiar with the raptora before I was cleared for flight,” her hands rub little circles where it rests,”I wanted a good resume and to be qualified before getting the job as pilot.”

 

“Do you like your job?”

“Yes,” She nods, “Helix was nice enough to call me, apparently after receiving a good letter of recommendation. They personally called me, so I appreciate it greatly.”

“And Overwatch?”

“What about it?”

“What if Overwatch  called you?”


	11. The Cat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Secrets cannot stay hidden forever

**_1_ **

 

 The question lingered in her head.  _ What if overwatch called her? _ They had called her mother, not herself, but what if they did? It had been her dream growing up, and part of her thought it still was. She tried to make sense of the feeling that question gave her. She felt as if this question had been asked to her before. Perhaps the last man who was captain before her, in one of their many conversation. 

 

Things blur in and out, she wonders how many of all these questions have been there in her head and for how long. It almost gives her a migraine, eyes staring a thousand yards. Angela had noticed how quiet she had gotten, however, and not wanting to ruin the moment. “Liebling,” Her hand rests in Fareeha’s abdomen leaning up to kiss her cheek. The affectionate small pet name, the first one she has heard in years makes her blink and turn her face that is then cradled in soft hands, “Come back to me.” Fareeha nodd, closing her eyes as Angela’s thumbs rub over her cheek. “Maybe we should leave that conversation for another day, yes?” They nod to one another, and gently, Angela presses their foreheads together. A silence envelops them, Angela swears she can hear their heartbeats.

“No one had ever stayed the night.”

Fareeha’s sudden statement makes the doctor blink and tilt her head. “No one had ever insisted on staying, I appreciate it Angela, it means the world. I am only sorry meeting you and bringing you home was at the cost of your freedom.”

“I knew the risks when I went to Gibraltar, Fareeha, it was not your fault. I thank you for letting me come instead of Winston. I am sure in time, Overwatch will prove to be a savior,” She kisses Fareeha’s forehead, “We live with the consequences of our actions, and I do not regret mine.” 

“I am glad you don’t blame me, but I still wish we met under better circumstances.” Fareeha lays back down, opening her arms. It's a space that Angela is very happy to occupy, nestling against the Egyptian with delight despite the severity of the subject they were discussing. 

 

Part of her wondered if she was suffering from Stockholm syndrome. Fareeha was, afterall, in charge of ensuring the doctor did not leave town till Helix was certain she was not up to illegal activities or about to skip and join a terrorist group. In all purpose, she was the jailor, and Angela had a very limited range only expanded because of her good behavior. Still, she  _ had  _ that crush since Ana was around. It was not as if she had developed feelings for Fareeha out of nowhere. Now she has her own lingering question, but all she does is sigh.

“Sometimes, it cannot be helped.”

 

**_2_ **

 

Angela had always wondered why Fareeha left the window open. When she asked, Fareeha stated that  _ it was for the cat _ , apparently some feline that sometimes roamed into the house and made itself at home. For the two months that she had lived in the house she had longed to see the lil critter, and even insisted that Fareeha should leave some kibble for it, though her roomate had insisted on it not being necessary. Angela thought it was weird, but figured there was no use pressing something kind of frivolous. 

 

That night, Angela decided she needed to get a drink of water, as much as she hated the idea of pulling out of Fareeha’s embrace. She sloppily slid a shirt on and, yawning, made her way to the kitchen. She thinks she steps on a puddle and grumbles annoyed bouncing a bit on the other foot, but continues onto the fridge that she opens and ducks into for a water bottle. As she works the cap off and brings the bottle to her lips she noticed the wash of the fridge light on her feet, now distinguishing it to be blood. Angela does not panic, brain quickly spinning the gears: That blood did not belong to her or Fareeha, and the window was open.

 

Quietly she closes the window, and fishes out a knife from the drawer, as well as the emergency flashlight. For now, it makes sense to inch forward in the dark let her eyes adjust. Angela may have been a doctor, but she was specifically a  _ combat medic. _ So her pace is patient and slow, listening to the calmed thump of her heart. That noise is somewhat muffled by what seems to be a low groan, like one that is trying to be kept quiet. Her attention snaps towards the direction of it: The sofa.  _ The blood, the complaints. _

 

“Do you require assistance?” She turns on the flashlight and sees a hooded head on the sofa, obviously slid and sat rather awkwardly. There is a high probability this person is falling unconscious and losing blood. Getting no answer she ventures all the way around to find her suspicion was indeed right. The person on the sofa was breathing shallow and pained, “Fareeha! Fareeha, bring the first aid kit!”

 

She herself gets up and hurries to the switch, turning the lights on and returning to the cloaked figure’s side. Said cloak was stained both with dirty and blood, though the source seemed to be her side. What shocks her is the mask covering their face; she had seen it in wanted signs around Temple of Anubis and for a second she hesitates. This person was a wanted criminal. It all transpires in roughly forty seven seconds. Fareeha is soon running into the living room in sweats and shirtless (since Angela had her shirt) with a hand full of first aid kit and the other of bat— only to stop dead in her tracks, “Mum!” 

 

In two strides she is at her side, dropping the bat and setting the first aid kit down for Angela. The captain is fumbling desperately while Angela stares dumbfoundead.  _ Mum?  _ Pharah did not have a mother— not anymore, anyways. Angela had buried Ana Amari six feet under long ago. And yet, Fareeha pries and throws the mask aside to reveal the elderly woman’s paled face. The face of who definitely was Ana Amari. “Angela-! What happened?!”

“I do— don’t know, she was sitting here when I came out for water,” her years of training kicks in, and she automatically gets up and starts to work, cutting the coat off and seeing to what the damage itself was, “it looks like wound from a shotgun, but they missed any organs. A rather…. deep flesh wound. Seems some of her tissue was burned clean off by the sharpel.” Angela immediately has Fareeha aid her, providing pressure and bringing the required tools close. 

 

The night had just become much longer.

 

**_3_ **

 

They must have worked an hour and a half to remove every bit of metal from Ana. By then the old woman had fallen unconscious and that was probably for the better because Angela had to clean and bandage her up, and frankly she did a miracle with what was basically a  _ in case you burn yourself or cut yourself on glass kit _ . Fareeha had left to find more supplies, and so Angela was left to stare at Ana, who now rested in the couch.

 

Ana looked so…  _ old _ , but then again, she was what? Sixty? There was wrinkles, the raven hair was now snowy white, she had an eyepatch, even the tattoo under her eye seemed faded by time. Her hair seemed much shorter than when she was in service, but looking closely it looked about as long, sunce it was braided and tucked around her shoulder. She risks waking Ana up by reaching over and removing the eyepatch, taking a look at the scarred tissue underneath. The doctor examines the eyelid, the place where an eyeball  _ should be _ , the depth and length of the scars and does her mental note taking and digs through her memories reaching her verdict.

 

So, Ana survived the enemy sniper, but barely. The bullet had probably not gone into her skull per say, but the sharpel of her scope certainly had, judging by the pattern of the scarring. She lost an eye and likely suffer frontal lobe damage that had probably nearly killed her. Best case scenario she had memory loss if at least partial. She had since been a shadow in Temple of Anubis, committing crimes of some sort for whatever reason under the name of the Shrike,  and the younger Captain Amari had simply taken to hiding this vigilante she had code named  _ the cat, _ so as to not rouse suspicions in her roomate _.  _ The young Amari left the window open for Ana to come in and visit or hide or sleep or eat or  _ god knows fuck what, _ and Fareeha had probably informed Ana of Angela’s current house arrest and because of that Ana was forced to not visit her daughter so as to not let the literal  _ cat out of the bag _ . Fareeha had chosen not to tell Angela. Ana had chosen not to tell Angela.  _ Why did they chose not to tell Angela? _

 

Whatever. 

 

Now they both had to speak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Back again with a chapter. Honestly seeing people actually want to see how its continued inspires me to keep at it. I hope you enjoy the latest entry.
> 
> As always, you can find me on twitter @Aura_stormgirl for questions, comments, ideas, or if you just wanna chat. And!! You can check the other fanfic “More lost than the Moon” if you are curious for other of my things.
> 
> Thanks <3


	12. The Faceless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is an Old saying where I am from: 
> 
> “You never know who you are working for.

**_1_ **

 

 “Why is Ana alive?”

That was a weird way to word it, certainly, but Angela was upset. She wanted to know what Fareeha was thinking, keeping something like this hidden for however long it was. She certainly had not been surprised when Ana walked it shot up. They had propped the old woman on the counter where blood could easily be cleaned and Angela could work the easiest. Even in her accusations she was feverishly working on patch her old mentor up. Fareeha was keeping pressure where requested, shaking her head.

 

“I don’t know  _ why,  _ She sent me a letter years ago, when she came to Cairo, telling me she lived. I didn’t see her for many years, though,” The Egyptian’s jaw is a firm line, “Don’t ask me, those were her choices, not mine. If she chose to not speak to you that was her decision, not mine, and I respected it.”

 

Maybe she was unjust, but Angela exhales. For a while they work in silence. Maybe she should not feel like she deserved anything from either Amari. Ana had been a superior, and Fareeha still avoided labeling their affair anything past roommates with benefits. Maybe this was all stockholm syndrome built on something else-- “Ziegler?” Fareeha’s voice calls, as she moves the a bit of the old woman’s shirt aside, exposing aged skin, stained papyrus of time kissed cracks. “What the  _ fuck  _  is  _ that?”   _

 

The blonde looks closely, pulling over some of the forceps. “Stretch the skin between your thumb and forefinger, I need some tension on the skin,” She grabs the forceps and trusts Fareeha with the task. The doctor pulls out a long thin device, setting it on the platter of debris Angela had removed from the elder. She rinses off the blood with spray, “It looks like some sort of device.” The captain takes it from the platter as she had many bullets before, looking over it closely. 

“It’s a Helix Tracker. She must have bumped into the guards,” she exhales unscrewing the top with deft fingers and stabbing into it the forceps, “We place them in Sniper rounds, they are great for tracking vehicles.”

“And so Helix is shooting elderly women with ballistic trackers?”

“In their defense, they do not know she is elderly, and second off, she is wanted by Helix. She is a rogue vigilante for all the wrong reasons,” With the tracker dismantled she throws it onto the platter, “I will certainly be called for this tomorrow. They will know the last location marked by the tracker. 

 

Angela shakes her head, but decides to finish her work. For now she is out of questions and out of energy. She wants to ensure Ana will be fine and rest off the fresh fatigue.

 

**_2_ **

 

Morning rolls by, Angela wakes up alone in Fareeha’s bed. She recalls the night in a waterfall, and the water goes cold as she sees the message on her phone.  _ Got called in. Stay safe _ . She would get up and go to the living room, sending a short response. No more than a word or three. 

 

Although she knew Ana was in the house, she didn’t expect the old Amari watching Television absentmindedly. Not with her injuies anyways. The bandages were visible past the sleeves of the t-shirt she wore: one of Fareeha’s, and it hung large on her thin frame. The years had not gone in by in vain, and it was jarring. The last time she saw Ana, her hair was graying but still a proud mane, now it was completely snowy and done up in a conservative braid— The scarred eye was what surprised the most.

 

“It is not polite to stare, you know?” Her voice is still authoritative, thick like honey, sweet like molasses. It makes Angela perk up and stand straight. It sounded as she always remembered: Like an old habit.

“Sorry,” the doctor walks around and takes a seat by Ana, without asking. The old woman sat with her ankles crossed and under her, apparently eating some sort of chinese food.  Had she ordered it? Maybe Fareeha had it delivered. It was a good question, but unimportant at the time, especially since Ana is already handing her a container to eat. Sure beats Ana’s cooking.

 

So they start to eat quietly together. Angela recalls that she hardly got to do this with her  _ old idol _ , since they were ever deployed in the same team. Usually one medic per mission, and Ana’s  _ skills _ served a completely different purpose than Angela’s. The second in command was usually reserved for no prisoner case and when Reinhardt was still active. The two had been a devastating duo, and Morrison always liked the safety the other two gave him. They were the true elites, a whole other level and an entirely different willingness to spill oil and blood alike when required. They took no one in, left no witnesses. Overwatch kept its name clean leaving no one who contradicted their stories, afterall. 

And Ana? Ana was the best at it, to the point where the notches on her rifle were reserved for only the toughest prey, and not the common sod. Her accuracy was beastial, and escaping her gaze was impossible. Whoever she was assigned to her stood no chance.  She voiced guilt, but she wondered if Ana craved the battlefield like her only daughter. Why else come back?

 

“You are still staring,  _ najmat saghira.”  _

“Sorry, it is… surreal, that is all.”

“I bet. It isn’t everyday you get to see a ghost.”

“No, typically when I claim people are dead they stay dead.”

“No body, no evidence.” A low chuckle, and a half smirk, a familiar gesture.  _ Ah so that’s where Fareeha got her charm. _

“I am amazed to see you. I never expected to find you again in Cairo after everything, and injured nonetheless. What happened, Ana?”

“I was ambushed, Talon must have been tipped on my plans, they were waiting for me,” Ana sighs setting her food to the side for a minute. Well, Angela had meant  _ what happened that you never came back _ but now that presented an ever more pressing matter.

 

“Wait, Talon?”

 

**_3_ **

 

“I understand that your duty lays with the city and justice within, it is quite noble and worthy of applaud. It is not everyday you meet a woman— no, a fighter with the conviction you have,” Akande says, standing before Fareeha and next to the Helix CEO desk. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ouf! Finally getting to the meat, after the side arc! It took so long because I was working on some requests and snippetsx plus the other work in progress fic I have...
> 
> As always feel free to contact me @Aura_Stormgirl on twitter :D


	13. The Doe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The food chain is unforgiving.

**_1_ **

 

“Your service has been outstanding, Captain Amari, and yet you seem to have no ambitions to rise above Temple of Anubis’ rankings. As someone raised to serve,  _ bred _ to fulfill a duty, I take there is a reason for this?” Akande asks, reclining his hips, on the desk and crossing his arms.

“This is my home, I have chosen it to be where live and die,” Pharah replies, hooking a thumb on her belt buckle, shoulders straight in her usual display of bravado. She had heard from her mother about Akande, better known as Doomfist. Herself? She knew this man, it was he who had led to the loss of so many of her men in this escape. To see him speaking with the owner of Helix, sharing whiskey, stirred something.

 

He was the man who had picked her as the face of Helix, who had trusted her leadership in the wake of the last captain’s passing. Someone who she admired, for his founding of Helix in the death of Overwatch to ensure the safety of the world.

“And you have served it with honor for many years,” He offers her a glass of whiskey on the rocks, which she takes out of habitual manner not of approval. He takes up a file on the desk, holding it up in one hand. He offers to Fareeha too,  “Why betray the state by giving shelter to a wanted, dangerous mercenary?”

“I do not need to disclose--”

“Answer the question, Captain.” 

 

As her higher up passes the command, her jaw tightens, and she exhales. She sets the drink down and opens the file, taking her time to formulate her answer as she reads. There was a bulk of papers. A pile of redacted dialogue from coms of many missions, some pictures of the Shrike, a few records on the casualties that had come from those altercations, the charges to her name, pictures of the woman without her mask from an encounter with the local mafia.  _ They know its her.  _ Fareeha closes the file, shoulders relaxing knowing they had her cornered, “You know why, Ogundimu.”

“It is interesting, that your loyalty goes far beyond duty and to kin. The most essential human instinct. At its best, in the best,” He chuckles, nodding to the CEO who stands and leaves, patting the captain’s shoulder as he leaves the office. The fight leaves her body. She is trapped. The falcon has become a pigeon.

 

“We must have a chat, Captain Amari.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A super short one, because I wanted to give it a little up update. Get ready for some emotional turnmoil in the next few chapters!!


	14. Echo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And the abyss stared back

**_1_ **

 

Fareeha came home late that night.

 

Angela remembered it well. Ana was on the couch, resting off her injuries still. The old woman was frail in some of Fareeha’s clothes. She had stayed up late, waiting for the soldier to come back, staying in the couch, reading. It took a long time,  she knew it was worrisome. No updates, no messages. A radio silence, never a good sign.

 

Ana sleeps. Snores softly, curled up on her side like a child. Angela would always look over to her, ensuring she was resting, once or twice adjusting the throw over the woman. The silence buzzed, so she put on some earphones, set some news on her holopad. She opens message she and Fareeha had. A bad habit, Mercy tells herself, opening it to read it.   Her thumb pushes it along, looking at old conversations… 

 

_ Angela: So Salem took your lunch? _

_ Fareeha: Yes, that bastard. He said it was a mistake, but I doubt it. _

_ Angela: How unfortunate. I had prepared that lunch myself! _

_ Fareeha:  Ugh, I will have to get back to him on that. _

 

She remembers how upset Fareeha was, and how only getting to eat dinner made her get over it. That had been a few weeks ago. Mercy scrolls a few days ahead while thinking maybe dinner would make the day end a little better. Though the idea fades  off a bit after, seeing another message.

 

_ Fareeha: Yeah, just a quick drink.  _

_ Angela: With the guys?  _

_ Fareeha: It's a little lounge party with the admins. _

_ Angela: The admins? _

_ Fareeha: Yes, you know, the guys who stay on base. _

_ Angela: The secretaries? _

_ Fareeha: Yeah, them too. _

 

Crime of omission, indeed. She recalls being quite upset and, well, jealous.  It was odd to think that she was jealous, especially because they had never been in any sort of relationship. Maybe that's why there was not a message for a handful of days. She should fix that, her jealousy anyways. Part of her thought it was justified, because there was something tying them -- that something being their shared love life and home life. It nagged her and she could not really give it up. Was she justified for her attitude? She hopes so, not wanting to be a problem for her … roomate.  She still thinks on that until sleep catches up with her.

 

**_2_ **

 

Morning rolls by.

 

Angela gets up, stretching, yawning and rubbing her  shoulders. Taking a peer to the side, she sees that Ana is gone. In her spot was a small bundle of candy with a small note addressed to Angela. A small gift of gratitude, nothing outrageous. Though, Angela was upset that the old woman had gone home instead of staying and resting as she had said. Doctor orders don’t mean shit to Amaris apparently.  What can you do?

 

She must have been alone for a long time. Cleaning was done. Much reading was achieved. Supplies organized. Email box emptied. It was a long uneventful day, and the whole time Fareeha was nowhere to be seen. 

 

It was almost sunfall when the soldier finally opened the door, dropping the duffle bag at the door as she closed the door.  Pharah doesn’t remove her jacket, or empty her pockets, simply shuffling along. She doesn’t even realize Angela staring at her from the kitchen. “Fareeha?”  calls the doctor. It wakes the woman from her distracted trance. She meets her half way in her track to go to the bedroom. A soft hand on her bicep stops her, “Where have you been?”

“I was at work,” Fareeha blinks and pats Angela’s hand. It doesn’t make the blonde’s gaze reduce in intensity. She sighs and tries to walk away, but Mercy pulls her again and sets her other hand on her cheek.

“You were gone for two days,” Angela sighs a bit. Her eyes are on Fareeha’s, seeing something different in them, “Is everything okay?”

 

The Helix Captain seems to get deep in thought again. There’s a dim light in her eyes. Angela places both hands onto Fareeha’s face, “ _ Ya amar _ , come back to me.” Her accent always turned the endearing term a bit, but it brought back the fire to Fareeha’s eyes, “Do you want to talk about it?”

They wait for a second but Fareeha leans down to kiss her instead. It catches her off guard, not expecting the gesture.

 

**_3_ **

 

It had been odd. Things escalated. Before she knew it, she had helped Fareeha out of the jacket. It was easy to lose track of who was pulling who along. Of who wanted validation the most desperately. Of what was pushing the other along.

 

Before Angela knew it, Fareeha was getting the strap on  that connected to the raptora nodes and she was throwing off the turtle neck, chiding the soldier to hurry up and hook the toy up already. It takes so little to rope the pilot into her body. So little to have her pushing the skirt up , the underwear aside and the navy-colored dildo down to the hilt. They melt against one another within groans. The kisses follow in quick succession as they fuck in nothing short of emotional need.

 

They don’t even make it to the bed, Angela is soon hiked up against the wall, legs around Angela, while she holds two fistfuls of Pharah’s muscle shirt. That shirt had slid up already, exposing the rough abs and lines of scars. Fareeha was a bouncing her, keeping eye contact best as she can with the blonde was taking a ride on the high tech toy. They moan against each other, before resuming making out, tongues deep in their task. Mercy is certain that Fareeha is somehow hitting a sweet spot she didn’t know she had before. Yet, what is driving her crazy is the way Fareeha bites her lip between kisses, slapping into her with one punctuated thrust and some self-serving cocky grin. It reminded Angela she was nothing but Fareeha’s. She realized how her abdomen contracted against her body with every powerful thrust,  every deep inhale of air against her skin. This woman had her on the ropes, and yet she only seemed to admit to wanting her in these moments — Perhaps she should treasure those instants more than she already does.

 

At some point, its Angela who is riding the captain like there is no tomorrow, making a show of her body for Fareeha who was kneading handfuls of the doctor’s ass. The only reason her hands were moved to tend to Angela’s pink, tantalizing clit. The noises the doctor makes rile her up more than anything she had ever heard or seen. The way she rocked forward and back, rolling her hips, making it an art of riding Fareeha like her own personal stallion. Pressing onto her clit only made Mercy up her effort and pull at Fareeha’s need for the doctor.   The hands on her chest, clenching into fists as she pressed that sweet knob was maddening. How could such a wonderful woman love her? A woman of ideals, brightness,morals, commitment! She was a picture perfect face, humping down onto her like she had nothing better to do with all that wonderful energy powering her lean figure. 

 

When the toy is cast aside and they decide to simultaneously tend to the other with their mouth, there is little between them. Clothes completely lost, the blonde’s hair down and tussled, the little braids pulled out of brunette hair. Angela is having difficulty keeping focused as Fareeha eats her out with feverish need. She wasn’t sure how many time she had finished, she was far too busy with the salty taste of her lover all over her lips.  Angela decides to cheat a bit, pushing a finger in to help her sweetheart along in her race to another finish: it earns a big loud lustful moan. Its arousing, and she digs right back in to suckle on the wet skin. Fareeha grind back, but instead of doing something else she grabs Angela by the ass and pulls her into her tongue. This intimacy was…. warming.

 

The night is high when they lay against one another. The need had burned and extinguished. The ashes kept them warm. Fareeha was cradling Angela against her body, both facing the window in silence, fingers weaved together. Not a word. Not a whisper. Not an  _ I love you _ . From neither. Nothing. Not an endearing pet name. Not a promise for more. An emptiness in the ashes. 

  
  
  
  
  


She was alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we are back online <3 It may be a week or two before another update. I have some paperwork to get done
> 
> Please feel free to come to my twitter @Aura_Stormgirl


	15. Deadman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little motivation.

**_1_ **

 

Angela was sleeping next to her, though they faced on another. Fareeha hadn’t slept much, and so she had time to think, feeling the warmth that rested by her. In the low light of dawn, there was nothing but a softness to Fareeha’s touch. She fixed Angela’s hair a bit, pushing it off the blonde’s face. The gentle features, the quiet and the home of being close to her….

 

Was Fareeha a dead man walking?

 

She felt guilty for hurting her, betraying her trust and loyalty. And yet, she had to do it. For Angela, for Ana, for Overwatch. She had sold out for them, to protect those she loved. She loved her home but not as much as her _family._ Pharah is thinking all of this while ,

watching Angela rest, setting an arm over the blonde’s curves. Now she feared other things, like losing her, like her decision being wrong, like disappointing her. She wanted nothing more than to be by her in the unmistakable feeling of devoted love.

 

Angela meant so much to her, that she couldn’t possibly  deny it. She would die for her, she would fly where no one else could, she would do what was necessary. Angela was a reality, something that reminded her she was worth more out of the raptora than in it. Could Angela really love her? Was that possible? Real love?

 

The doctor shifts, looking for the warmth of the captain’s body, who is pleasantly surprised before pulling her into her body, wrapping both arms around Angela. She felt so human, so volatile and oh so small. She kisses Angela’s forehead, whispering softly against her skin  “I promise to protect you.”

 

Dead man walking.

 

**_2_ **

 

When Angela woke up, the bed was empty, and she felt a pang of anger, maybe annoyance, though it quickly dies down as she smells something coming from the kitchen. It takes her a few minutes to walk out of their bedroom to hear Fareeha cursing it was seem like french as she tried to get a slab of toast unstuck from the toaster. She succeeds and threatens the toaster to not do that again. Or so Angela thinks, her french is a little rusty.

 

Finally the captain notices her and offers a sheepish smile, “Breakfast?”

“Is it as burned as the toast?” teases Angela coming over to the chief who laughed shaking her head.

“Maybe the coffee is safer than that-“

Angela sets her hands around Fareeha’s hips, on the counter, and leaned a bit into the egyptian. Fareeha turns fully, looking like a deer in headlights with the doctor so close this early in the morning, “And what’s got you in such a good mood? I had never seen you using the kitchen.”

“I thought maybe you would want breakfast-“ Fareeha giggles a bit as Angela nuzzles into her neck, indulging in the smell of her lover, “That tickles-“

“If you want me back in bed you just have to ask, I never took you for the kind to play house, not even as a kid.”

 

A small silence, Fareeha not having expected that as reality hits her. The implication that Angela was another one night stand, or someone to occupy her. That wrenched her heart. Fareeha sets the spatula she had been using to stir the egg off to the side so her hands are free to cup Angela’s face, leaning down to give her a passionate kiss. It was a desperate one, trying to convey what she had been too coward to say. When they pull apart and she sees Angela’s confusion, she adds, “I don’t want you just in bed, Angela. I want you to know that. I am afraid to disappoint you, because you mean so much to me. I am sorry if you ever felt like you didn’t.”

“What?”

“I had waited all my life for a chance — You were my crush, y’know? I never had a thing for blondes, I had a thing for you.”

“ _What.”_

 

Fareeha laughs, letting go of Angela’s face and offering her half grin, “I mean it. I just never thought you would be interested in me.”

“Fareeha, are you pulling my leg?” She taps the captain’s chest.

“No, I mean it with every bit of it, and I am sorry I did anything to make you not believe me.” Fareeha shakes her head.

 

She moves her left hand, removing the iron ring on her pinkie, taking Angela’s hand and placing it on the Swiss’s right pointer finger, “You mean the world to me. Know that, please,” Angela is dumbfounded, looking at the gift given to her, “It’d be an honor to be able to call you my girlfriend.”

The hesitation and surprise hangs before Fareeha tilts her head, “So..?”

 

Angela leans up and takes a kiss from Fareeha, who holds her at the hip and close. “Yes, Fareeha!”

“Then let me take you out for breakfast, I am sure you don’t want to taste my horrible cooking,” Eskimo kisses for the doctor, while Fareeha grins proud of herself.

 

Dead man walking.

 

**_3_ **

 

It had been such a wonderful day.  Angela looked gorgeous smiling as she did, an angel beaming and healing old wounds Fareeha didn’t know she had anymore. She caught herself exhaling at how beautiful Ziegler was.

 

They had gone to a small corner dinner where they had shared a great breakfast, though Angela joked about the coffee being a bit watery. Then they had gone for a walk in the open air market, the doctor holding her arm the whole time. After that they ended up taking up a movie, though Fareeha wasn’t so sure what it was about, since she was still feeling fuzzy and distracted by Angela holding her hand in public. It was that easy to make them both happy. When they got back home the sun had already gone down, not that either of them cared. They had already gotten to the couch, where Angela was reading, sat between Fareeha’s legs, who was apparently playing a video game with her arms around Angela, chin rested on her _girlfriend’s_ shoulder. It was surreal that the only thing that had changed was admitting her feelings and asking Angela formally, and yet it made her home feel all that much warmer.

 

That is until her phone rings, which she picks up and answer, “Captain Amari, who is this?”

“The suit is ready, report to B3 for testing tomorrow morning.”

 

With that the call was over.

Angela looked confused, glancing over her shoulder at Fareeha who had considerably, gone rigid, “Fari? Who was it?”

 

_Dead man walking._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See I told you there was a reason!! I swear there is a method to my madness~
> 
> Soon I’ll be free, and I hope to write some more. This was a quick chapter before my last big examination of the semester.
> 
> Please drop by @Aura_Stormgirl if you wanna use the curiuscat to ask more about the project (or periodically remind me to update, I’m the worst)


	16. Spring-trap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fareeha has finally met the people puppeteering Helix.

**_1_ **

 

_ Anubis Unit Mark VI. Green across the board. Ready for trial _ .

 

Fareeha did not appreciate the new armor. She was told it was a standard raptora VI, but some of the pieces felt different, particularly the helm. Usually, the raptora unit had a standard visor, and the only one fashioned as a falcon’s beak was the blue one she donned for Helix PR events. This one, however, had been sculpted after a jackal, hence the codename  _ Anubis _ , with red and black decals. What was throwing her off was that she could not see around the helm. The piece latched securely over her face, and did not let her even peep out from under it. Her vision was wholly swallowed by the HUD of Anubis, leaving her to have to trust entirely on the optics of the suit. Even in the raptora, she usually chanced looks and gazes under it. To add to it, they had added a mouth piece, similar to the one she had seen on footage of Soldier76. She didn’t think he had stolen that from Helix, but it seemed to help with breathing, so for now she had no qualms with it.

 

Even if they hadn’t told her, she knew this suit was different. She knew something was off, feeling a tingle on the nodes where it connected; something Pharah had not felt since the first month of being a pilot. Something was different about it.  _ “This armor is designed to withstand more damage than your standard issued raptora. You probably knew that, however, there is also the fact your HUD has multiple settings, including heat, night vision, and an experimental one the department had been working: electromagnetic readings to help with omnics. Packed with Barrage rounds and concussive blast per you personalized raptora designs. The engines pack twice as much power, so you can reach higher— hence the mask provided. It will stabilize your breathing should there be a need. Made with carbon fiber, it is much lighter. You will feel it in the bucks, so be careful with tohr emergency jet jumps.” _

“Roger.”

_ “While the Anubis unit is advantageous, remember this is only for you black ops, Captain. You are not allowed to discuss these designs with anyone other than officials with Alpha-8th clearance, per the agreement.” _

So anyone in Talon. 

_ “Alright ma’am, you are clear for takeoff.” _

 

The test was the usual, some height calibrations, maneuvering the course as asked, simulated dives, things Fareeha could do with her eyes closed. She felt hyper aware however, like this armor fit her better despite how it seemed heavier when she first equipped it. In two hours she was done, and given the clear to go to the hangar to remove it and have some medical testing done. Fishy? Yes. Was she in a position to say no? Definitely not. So she lands and walks into the bay as asked, without a word.

 

The helm comes off and she holds it haphazardly in a hand, fixing her hair with her other hand. She is caught by surprise as she lays eyes on a particularly red haired woman. Her eyes were mismatched, donning a lab coat and an eyepiece that only half shielded the blue eye. It took her a moment to recognize her: Moira O’Deorain, minister of genetics. Immediately, her chest contracts. If she had a bad feeling about this before, now it was turned up to eleven. Yet the geneticist seemed to be unbothered as Fareeha approached her, setting the helm down. “Fareeha Amari, am I correct?”

“Yes, I would be  _ Captain _ Amari.”

 

A knowing hum escapes Moira’s throat before casting a sideways glance at the pilot, who only frowns. Her eyes rake her, so full of something that Fareeha cannot pin. She nods and gestures for her to remove the suit, turning away to allow some privacy for the captain. “Are you aware of the anubis’s mechanisms?”

“To a mechanical degree, what is your involvement?”

“It was in the best interest to take the opportunity and test a certain procedure that was popular some years ago,” She seems to stop at that, an eyebrow ever slightly lowering, “You were not informed?”

“I have little option but to agree to what they want so it doesn’t matter.”

Again, a silent side glance, as Moira seems to dwell on something, calculating whatever it was. For a split second a scowl is visible before disappearing, as she exhales, “I suppose you are correct. Little can be done in your situation. Rest assure, leave your health in my hands. I will provide you with all the information on your case medial and theoretical, as I am your assigned physician. I prefer to have my patients fully agree to their treatment but it seems we  _ both _ have no choice but to work together.” 

 

“I will need a blood sample for the time being.”

 

Fareeha is left to think on Moira’s words as she rolls up the sleeve of the compression suit that was always under the raptora, “So the nodes where connected to something.”

“Yes, again, pardon me. I was under the assumption you were up to date on the anubis’s protocol.” 

“I am growing quite aware I know very little of what is going on around here,” She hisses under her breath. Moira’s hands were nimble, drawing blood with ease into the appropiate vial. The purple hand was cold to the touch, and Fareeha couldn’t help but to take the deformed features in. It made her wonder if Moira had done more than that to herself. 

 

“Indeed, little sparrow,” Moira examines the vial to the light,”The world is quite the ocean, and never does a fin beat without alerting the sharks.”

Fareeha held a cotton swab to the puncture. She saw Moira move to the side and insert the vial into one of the laboratory mechanisms. The statement had been so cryptid, she was dumbfounded by it.  The captain glances down to her new little swab. This was the woman her mother had worked with and shielded her from. Yet she looked like any old scientist with commitment to their work. Maybe Moira did not have entirely black morals—

 

Or perhaps justice was going color blind.

 

“You are Ana’s daughter.” 

 

The incredulous statements comes from Moira, who stares at the genetic material she had extracted, the red head looking to Fareeha for a second before back to the screen. Her eyes give away how astounded she was, like the glint of surprise on someone who sees little excitement in life nowadays. “I thought of you as nothing but a relative, but to think you are the  _ harridan’ _ s own girl. What a small ocean.”

“Watch it.” She warns. 

“Pardon my suddenly brash attitude, your mother stole from me more than a few blueprints and used them without my consent. I did not even get a thank you, perhaps I am a bit ….  _ Bitter about it,”  _ Moira scoffs and looks back to her data, before swiping the identification aside to look at Fareeha’s genome closely instead.

 

Fareeha watches her carefully, trying to discern what was off putting about the woman. There is something ancient to Moira, though it is not the same age she sees in her mother. Must be a mom thing, the weathered aura to the old woman. She finds it doubtful that Moira could have a child, too. Yet she seems lost in whatever realization or emotion the Amari’s bring her.  Fareeha can almost see Moira weigh one thousand possibilities and discard them at once, shifting them like she did with the data on her holographic HUD. Her wit was as sharp as her tongue, no doubt, and even a quick-minded Amari couldn’t contest with the good doctor.

 

“No matter. Allow me to fetch you the files.”

  
  


**_2_ **

 

_ SEP Program _ .

 

She was in the car, parked outside of her home.  Fareeha had the folder open on the jeep’s steering wheel reading over whatever the hell Moira was going to do with her. She had never been a fan of enhancements. Bioengineered or otherwise. And here she was. Getting pumped with god knows what. All she can do is cover her face and try to take deep breaths, trying to calm herself between shakes. She snaps, punching the wheel and the files. The klaxon sounds sharp, as if denouncing her outburst and she curses to herself about making noise this late. 

 

Fareeha has to think, rationalize what was going on. What was going to happen. Her mind is loud, so many trains of thoughts. Elbows rest on the wheel as she holds her head.

 

Certainly a dead man walking now. How long till a black ops went awry? She had never worked for classified sectors to begin with much less under an organization like Talon. Not that she hadn’t been before: Helix was bought out years ago, well before she had even joined the firm. She had always worked for them, just overlooked the signs. Now? What can she do? She can’t ignore it. She can’t escape it. It's a reality. Akande had been honest, saying that Talon had a grip on most organizations, hence why Overwatch kept being put down and closed whenever anyone attempted to bring it back. For Angela’s and Ana’s safety, she had given her soul to the devil. She would be called for ‘black-ops’ or better said, to do Talon’s biding when needed. Moira was pumping her full of whatever magic juice she had concocted in her lab and Pharah could only hope her body showed no side effects for Mercy to worry over. 

 

_ “Overwatch was shut down for a reason. But hope is a powerful tool. Why else would we let them stay in Gibraltar. The world needs an enemy in order to produce a necessary conflict, and Overwatch will give us that if they continue to insist on existing. Captain Amari, you can do something. We do our best to make sure our losses are nothing short of indispensable. In a world of war only the strong survive -- and You yourself are no stranger to war. You know survivors evolve in the aftermath, you are one, you have seen it. Not to mention I am sure you … have interest in this Shrike and in the doctor that has been staying your home for months. Perhaps you would want to ensure your kin stay safe, as the price of your services.” _

 

Overwatch stood no chance. Saying  _ no _ would have had her sent to the cells in no time. She had been cornered and had no choice. This was it.

 

The folder is closed and tossed under her seat. No need to bring this home and risk  Angela seeing it. Fareeha grips the steering wheel, staring at it, thinking of nothing and everything. Should she cry, should she scream, should she be angry. It was pointless: Fareeha was more interested in enjoying her tiny victory, what she had accomplished in agreeing to this madness.

 

Angela and Ana would be safe.

 

Pharah walks into the apartment, doing her usual ritual of putting things aside and finding Angela with what is obviously a box of cold pizza on the coffee table. Apparently the doctor had ordered food assuming Fareeha would return at a normal time and had been  waiting for her with a glass of wine. It makes her smile and for a few seconds be sure she has made the right choice. She was a soldier; who was she to disobey orders?

 

Fareeha leans over the back of the couch and gives Angela a soft kiss on the cheek. The doctor’s palm finds her face and cups it gently against her face. Fareeha can smell the distinct scent of her lover’s body wash of choice. “I have good news, ya amar,” A kiss trails a bit lower, still speaking as Angela seems to shift onto her knees. The doctor turns, resting her crossed arms on the back of the couch looking up at the soldier with a small smirk.

“It best be better news than the pizza I got for you that  then went cold because someone was out later than expected,” Angela chuckles as Fareeha takes her chin tenderly.

“I spoke with the officers,” She gives a lingering kiss, interrupting her own tall.

Angela nips her lip, letting the gesture last, “Got yourself another date with Lily?”

“They said they’d remove your house arrest; I have been given the password to remove it.”

“What?!” That makes Angela set aside the teasing and throw  her arms over Fareeha’s neck pulling her, “Really?!”

“Of course, how could I lie to you,” She pulls Angela out of the couch and gives her a little twirl, while they laugh. Once she stops, Fareeha holds Angela off the ground, “Happy?”

“Incredibly so.”

 

**3**

 

The night had devolved as anyone would expect. So the two had settled in the couch . Fareeha was reclined on the arm rest and Angela was sat with her legs over Pharah’s abdomen. Both were pretty much naked by now, but now enjoying the wine and pizza leisurely after their little celebration. The show Angela had been watching never stopped but they certainly had stopped caring a while ago.

 

“Angie?”

“Yes?”

“Are you going to leave?”

“Pardon?”

“Well, you are free to go anywhere, back to Switzerland, Gibraltar… anywhere. You don’t have to stay in Egypt,” she shrugs a little, pretending not to be scared of possible answers. She had been left once, she was not sure her heart could handle a second time.

“What?” Angela blinks and looks to Fareeha, “Why do you think I could leave? I think you arresting me worked rather well. I am glad I got to know you better past the original asshole facade you had going. I am thrilled to be able to call you girlfriend, to share a house with you, to have  _ these  _ moments of domesticity I never thought I would have. I truly love you,  _ mein stern.” _

  
  
  


“... Fareeha? Are you crying?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly spent so much time staring at part 3 and decided it was fine brief and to the point. 
> 
> As always, feel free to visit @Aura_Stormgirl on twitter! I also made a ko-fi if you feel like supporting me or asking for a commission..
> 
> https://twitter.com/aura_stormgirl/status/1129299420304949248?s=21


	17. Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An inevitable outcome

**_1_ **

 

For many weeks business was normal. Or as normal as Angela could perceive it. Fareeha was working later than before, and many nights she did not come home till the next day. The captain said it was something to do with missions around Temple of Anubis, nothing in depth but small skirmishes that needed to be taken care off before Omnics got out of hand. It never seemed overtly dangerous, and Fareeha always came back to her.

 

However, Angela could see something wear down her partner, something that was eating at her away slowly and only seemed to leave Fareeha when the pilot slept. Angela was not going to force her into speaking when she wasn’t ready; she learned to be patient with Fareeha and her problems, and offer her quiet company till her opinion was needed. They shared a bed now, and Fareeha became reliant on being able to hold Angela in her sleep. Not that it mattered: She always left before Angela woke up.

 

The doctor had begun working at a local hospital. Getting a job as a worldwide icon and outstanding doctor made it easy to get into any clinic she wanted. She still had spare time alone to look over the old notes she had gotten from Moira’s lab in Gibraltar, looking for any sort of hints at what pieces had been used in Ana’s rifle or anything that perhaps would make her time in the field less insufferable. Some sort of Peaceful means to protect herself. She wondered if perhaps it was easier to stay out of the field all together and commit to the clinic.

 

Angela was probably distracted in those matters when Fareeha called her in the dead of night. Something about having to go away for a week or so. “What? This is so sudden. Is everything okay?”

“Yes, ya amar, but I need you to listen to me. I will be back, please wait for me. Once I come back, we should consider moving elsewhere. Pick a place, any place. I want us to have a vacation at least. I feel like it's been forever since we were alone.”

She sounded so distracted, so out of it, all Angela could say was,” Of course, mein stern. Wherever you want. But you better come back to me in one piece,yes?”

“Angela, I love you.”

“I love you too.”

 

Everyday was more difficult than the last. She didn’t know where or when her lover would return, and Ana’s concern did not help the situation. The cat was certain something had gone awry, but had no information to help either of them.  All they could do was wait.

 

With that, Angela did not hear from Fareeha in a month.

  
  


**_2_ **

 

She had been sent to Oasis as Moira’s guard, under the suspicion that the Talon Scientist would be ambushed by opposing forces on the flight there. They were not entirely sure and partially, the tip was dismissed, so they were only given a small force of four raptora pilots and the captain, plus Moira who wore the intricate machine on her back.

“It is soothing to know the good soldiers of Helix will be ensuring my safety,” she heard Moira say once or twice, perhaps a bit sarcastically, perhaps meaning it.

 

While she herself did not trust Moira, she had learned the woman always had a reason for her actions and understood the ensuing consequences very well; when she acted, Moira had already calculated four or five outcomes. A morally gray scientist was always dangerous, but in the time of their work, Moira had done her best to ensure Fareeha’s safety and well being. In a way, the captain respected that in the Minister of Genetics. She too was committed to her line of work.

“Why are you armed? Typically we do all the fighting in escort missions, you know.”

“I rather be able to provide support for my team as needed, not to mention a five man team is quite small, call it precaution,” Moira responds to the captain’s curiosity and leaves it at that. It confused her, but she accepts that response. Maybe the geneticist did not trust Helix. Maybe she did not trust Talon.

 

As expected, their airship was taken down in the coasts of the Nile and had engaged in combat within seconds of crashing. Plenty of enemy soldiers were there but they stood no chance against four heavily armed Helix Officers. Any attempt to identify the forces was futile, until Winston and a man with a red visor, Soldier 76, made their way into the fight. At that point it was impossible to deny it was Overwatch attempting to stop Moira. How did they know the route? It meant an informant was in their ranks. Perhaps Talon was not as safe. 

 

Winston’s lock was on Moira. The massive primate was continuously knocked back from his attempts, but the aim of Soldier was shredding the force. Soon enough, Fareeha had lost four men, their pulse lines flatlined, and her HUD had various warnings on the display. She only didn’t collapse thanks to Moira’s biotic spray and the unmistakable chemicals in her veins that made it difficult for death to reach her. 

The Anubis unit was far too damaged, but Fareeha stood. 

 

The captain walked to Moira’s side, watching the minister. Moira had her fair share of scratches, but the scientist was far too focused. No doubt she had seen her fair share of battle before, and was too slippery for Winston to catch for more than a few seconds.

“Morrison, it has been far too long, I trust time has treated you well, or perhaps it is my colleagues’ work that keeps you standing,” Moira had a sharp gaze on Soldier who did not speak, Winston roared beating on his chest before pouncing ahead. Fareeha does not hesitate to brace herself and jet jump forward, overclocking the system as she mimics what she once saw a crusader do. 

 

Impacting Winston head on was definitely a mistake, but she refused to fire at an old friend. Once they are locked she gives another burst of the engine. They sail backwards, back the way he had come— A large hands is crushing the helm, and another has ripped an engine.  The fuel is cut and Fareeha is stuck in an expensive tin can suit.

 

They plummet in an arc as the system fails completely, but they barely hit the ground before Winston casts Fareeha to the side like a ragdoll into the bluff’s various rocks. The captain almost blacked out on impact , but her blood burned with lead. Barely thinking, she crawls to her feet, hearing Soldier snarl something to the scientist that has joined him once more. Both him and Winston are swift to trek forward, away from her and her discarded men. Concluding that they left her for dead, she collapses back down, now sat against a rock. Overwatch had attacked a Minister of Oasis. 

 

She couldn’t help thinking that Talon had planned this, set it all up, that's why O’Deorain wore her equipment. Sent Moira and the Helix soldiers to the slaughterhouse is what they did,  hoping they’d make it out but not betting much on it. Now it was officially a matter of diplomacy, it would be easy to call Overwatch dangerous.

Moira refused to die without fighting. She would not be fed for Talon’s conflicts, and she had survived probably out of sheer spite. Fareeha was lucky to get out with her life— For now.

 

The captain sleeps, rests for a long while. She is too scared to remove the mask, though she knows there is little she can do. Fareeha must have been stranded for a few hours before a cold had sees removing her helm, taking her face and checking her sore spots. “I am not done with you yet.” More pieces of the suit fall, removing a huge weight from her shoulders, “Head down. I need to see the neural node.” It is most certainly Moira, and Pharah complies. She must be giving her an extra dose of that serum to kick start her body, “You are very wounded. I fear that I cannot do very much past this. This will only keep you going for a few hours. We must get back to Temple of Anubis. I am guessing you have an evacuation plan?”

Fareeha nods, “Give me a second—“ 

 

It was incredibly hard to stand even with Moira’s help. She makes it to the airship’s remains and fiddles with the controls. It wouldn’t fly but the distress signal would send. She sits uselessly in the pilot sit, cradling a few more intense pain that wracked her body. “I am amazed you survived. The SEP treatment must be functioning well,” Moira sat in the co-pilot seat, removing the harness with a content exhale, “How do you feel, Amari?”

“In pain. What happened with Winston and Soldier?”

“They lost track of me. It is quite easy to avoid two men who seem unable to look past their tunnel vision,” replies Moira with a short chuckle. She is binding and cleaning her scrapes,” You best think of your options. If there is no one else on base capable of fixing your injuries they will call Ziegler, and I am guessing she does not know of your conditions.”

“I rather she does not know,” Fareeha is barely awake in her seat,” Maybe someone else will fix me.”

 

**_3_ **

 

Apparently, she was not awake when they retrieved her and Moira. Later, the Egypyian learned she had been unconscious for a month. The doctors had placed her under comma while her body healed up and recuperated. Many bones had broken, organs bruised, tissue damaged. From what she understood, she had only been able to stand and move thanks to the Raptora and Moira’s serum. After that she was fully out of it and could do nothing but heal; a long process because Moira obeyed her request to not wanting Mercy to be called in. 

 

When she was able to go home, Fareeha had a few more scars and a some weeks off to allow herself rest. She was scared to come to the door, but her body was far too excited to be home to stop herself from opening and dragging her feet inside. Her routine be damned, the captain went looking for her girlfriend. She needed some hugs, stat.

 

“Angela?” Her voice is hoarse, probably after a month of dead silence. When she can’t find Angela she glances at her watch, which was marking three am. It was early, so the doctor was probably in bed. Fareeha drags her feet over, peeping into the room to find Angela sleeping curled up against Pharah’s pillow. She feels guilty seeing her partner lonely. The captain crawls along, getting into her own pair of sweat and shirt, but only really getting unreasonably happy when she is touching Angela’s knuckles.

 

The gentle gesture wakes up Angela who is, at first , startled and then happy. She is still drowsy and sleepy but she has already shoved the pillow aside and securely latched onto Pharah. The Egyptian can hear a soft sob escape Angela, who wraps her arms and legs tightly around her. There are many little kisses on her neck, she hears Fareeha say she missed her and that she was sorry for worrying her.

Angela does not speak, instead clinging to her, mumbling about how she was worried sick. It is quickly replaced by a more open concern, noticing the edge of a scar over Fareeha’s jaw, and another that peeks from her hair line, “What happened? Where were you? I thought I lost you.”

“I am so sorry, the mission went awry, it took me a bit to get back, I didn’t mean to worry you, sweetheart,” Fareeha cups Angela’s face, thankful after thinking she may never get to do so again,”I’m fine, I got a few weeks off. I want to enjoy some time with you.”

“Oh, liebling, you are all roughed up, why didn't they call me? I could have fixed you in a week,” Angela is caresses her scars, seeming to groan in German.

“Protocol,” She lies, opting to close her eyes and let Angela hold her dearly, “I am sorry. I didn't mean to be gone so long.”

“It's your job, I would be terrible to hold it against you.”

 

But it wasn’t.

 

This wasn’t her job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!! Don’t think I have died.
> 
> I have started working on snippet commissions and you probably noticed there is 3 fics including Icarus that are on going. 
> 
> If you are interested in commissions, chatting or supporting my work please come by my twitter!
> 
> https://twitter.com/aura_stormgirl/status/1129299420304949248?s=21


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